


Regina in Caritate

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Vicbourne, alternative history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-25 09:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 94,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: "It would have been a tragedy, my marrying someone like Albert?" Victoria tightened her hand on his shoulder, and Melbourne nodded seriously."For me, Ma'am, it would have been the most painful tragedy I would have endured in all my life, and I consider myself something of an expert on painful tragedies. Still, I would have borne it.""For England's sake," Victoria nodded, but Melbourne shook his head."For your sake."************************The "rook scene" at Brocket Hall ends very differently from what we see on the show. When Victoria rejects all suitors but Melbourne, he gives his Sovereign what she desires. But where Victoria underestimates the political fallout, Lord M realises just how much trouble they may be creating. He loves her anyway. Alternate history, Vicbourne, novel length WIP.





	1. Chapter 1

"I think perhaps now... I'm speaking as a woman and not as a queen. At the beginning, I thought that you were the father I never had. But now I feel… I know... that you are the only companion I could ever desire."

Lord Melbourne's green eyes flashed a little, and he took a half step back from his queen.

"Companion," he repeated. "If only I were worthy of such a title, Ma'am."

"You think yourself unworthy?" She studied his expression, as difficult to read as ever, and she assured him, "Trust is not something I throw about lightly, Lord M. And you know very well that the list of people I genuinely care for is short indeed."

"Ma'am." Lord Melbourne turned his eyes away, scuffing his boot on the gravel and shaking his head a bit. "Someday you will marry, and the man will not be me. He can not be me."

"And why not?" Victoria tipped her chin up imperiously and played her fingers together. "They say my people would most prefer an English marriage. And you are a viscount."

"I am your Prime Minister, Ma'am," Melbourne reminded her. He put his hands on his hips and shrugged a little. "The Tories… do you suppose they would be very happy with anything official? Anything hinting at being official? Your impartiality has already been questioned to death. I would be dragged permanently from politics, and… and… Your Majesty, you will find a fine man to whom you might commit your heart."

"I have already found him," Victoria said quite firmly. "I am looking at him now. It is your prerogative to reject me, at least in this matter, but do not pretend it is because of my marriage prospects. If you find me undesirable, simply tell me and - "

"Undesirable?" He'd interrupted her, and the crackling unease that flared up between them revealed the depth of that impropriety, even in a conversation as personal as this one. Melbourne's cheeks went scarlet at once, and he bowed his head as he muttered, "Pardon me, Ma'am; I did not mean to interrupt."

"Well?" Victoria took a step closer to Melbourne and tried to swallow past the knot in her throat. "Is it really just politics, Lord M? I understand my life is for England. I understand that I belong to the British people, to my subjects. My heart is exempt. They can not reach it. It is mine, and if I wish to spare it from marriage, I shall. But tell me, Lord M. Do you reject me entirely in the name of politics?"

"I am not rejecting you," he said, staring down at his boots before raising his eyes to her. "The politician in me knows that the man by your side can not be me, despite what either of us may find most comfortable."

"You would be quite the consort," Victoria mused, her lips twitching a little as she sniffed. It was too cold for the dress she'd worn, she realised distantly. The air around Brocket Hall had a chill in it, a bite. Or perhaps it was just her Lord M that did. But the coldness in his face thawed a little now, and he scoffed a bit as he whispered,

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

Victoria tipped her head and felt a pang of anxiety go through her.

"I am asking for you. As much of yourself as you will give me."

"I would deny you nothing, Your Majesty," Melbourne said seriously, "but all expectation is that you will marry shortly."

"Then I should like a proclamation drawn up," Victoria told him sternly. She picked at her gloves and pinched her lips. "A proclamation stating that the Queen has no intention of marriage at present, that we will focus our attentions on the welfare of the people and the advancement of the realm."

"The advancement of the realm." Melbourne raised his eyebrows and gave a cheeky little smile. "Ma'am, it is neither expected nor appropriate that you would issue a public proclamation about your personal life."

"And yet they all seem to find my personal life so very public," Victoria quipped. "I grow weary of demands that I marry, of machinations to bring me Russians and Germans as though they are goods on offer and I am obligated to buy something."

"I can not be your lover," Melbourne informed her. "Elizabeth's time was long ago. People are different now. The monarchy would be in crisis if society knew that you -"

"Oh, hell take society, then," Victoria snapped, quickly realising how ludicrous that sounded. She swallowed hard and felt her eyes burn. "I am sorry to have disturbed you, Lord Melbourne. I was a fool to come. I am a fool about a great many things."

"You are a great many things," Melbourne informed her, "but you are not a fool."

He dared to step closer to her then, a palm going to each cheek and making Victoria lose her breath. She should slap him for touching her like this. She should have him arrested for touching the Sovereign like this. Instead she closed the gap between them and covered his hands with hers.

"Tell me, Ma'am, what precisely it is that you want of me," Melbourne said, his eyes darting wildly as he seemed to lose his nerve. Victoria squeezed on his hands a little and said,

"I just… don't want to leave you," she told him honestly, "and I do not want you to leave me. Riding out with you… long walks with you… talks beyond dispatches. These things I would lose the day I became another man's bride. I know it. I would lose them if you were no longer my Prime Minister. And I refuse to lose these things. I wish to keep you, and to have you keep me."

"But, Your Majesty," Melbourne said, shaking his head, "A queen can be kept only by her crown."

"I told you I came here as a woman, not a queen," Victoria reminded him. "Tell me, Lord M. I propose that you be my companion, all political considerations aside. Do you reject or accept my proposal?"

He sighed, his breath shaking a little through his nostrils, and he bent closer to Victoria. He touched his lips to her forehead, and Victoria shivered at the feel. His lips went to one cheekbone and then the other, and Victoria was almost expecting him to kiss her on the mouth. Instead, he pulled back and took her hand in his. He bowed and bent a knee and kissed her knuckles, just like he always did. Then he stood and informed her,

"I serve my queen in every way I can as Prime Minister. If it is her command… her wish… then I shall serve her as her companion, as well."

Victoria's heart raced, and she squeezed his fingers as she nodded.

"Right," she whispered. "We are very pleased, Lord M. We are very, very pleased."

**Author's Note: This short prelude sets the scene for an alternative history that will be novel-length. I hope you'll stick around for the romance and its fallout, and I'd be very grateful for feedback. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

  
TV Shows » Victoria » Regina in Caritate  
Author: Mrs Slytherin Baelish   
Rated: M - English - Romance/Drama - Reviews: 2 - Published: 09-06-17 - Updated: 09-07-17 id:12643531  
"Morning, Ma'am…" Lehzen peered in through the door, and Victoria blinked her eyes open as she dragged her head from the pillow. She'd slept terribly, plagued by nightmares of German cousins and grabbing Russians. She cleared her throat and sat up, rubbing at her eye as she demanded,

"What is the hour, Lehzen?"

"It is nearly nine," Lehzen said, walking over to the curtains and drawing them open. Victoria squinted through the sunlight and demanded,

"Has my mother already taken her breakfast in her rooms?"

"I believe so, Ma'am," Lehzen gave a knowing little nod. "We know she does not like to wait for breakfast."

"Well. I must hurry to dress and eat, or else I shall be late to meet with Lord M."

"He has already arrived, Ma'am," Lehzen said, sounding almost suspicious. "He is patiently waiting to meet with you."

"He's here?" Victoria hauled herself from bed and mumbled, "Well, hell take breakfast, then. Fetch my lady's maid, will you, Lehzen? And send someone to tell Lord Melbourne that I shall be with him presently."

Lehzen's eyes flicked up and down Victoria's form, but she nodded. "Of course, Ma'am."

Twenty minutes later, Victoria sat in a burnt orange day gown, her hair being arranged into a neat twirl of braids by Skerrett.

"Does that suit Your Majesty?" Skerrett asked, peering into the mirror to examine the way the braids framed Victoria's face. Victoria nodded and asked,

"How about the little seed pearls on top?"

"That will look fine with this dress, Majesty," Skerrett nodded with a shy grin. She rifled about in Victoria's jewelry boxes until she found the delicate string of tiny pearls with the larger teardrop in the centre. Skerrett arranged it and pinned it in place, and then she asked,

"Anything else, Ma'am?"

"Do you think this colour suits me, Skerrett?" Victoria asked. Skerrett looked a little confused for a moment, so Victoria turned round and clarified, "Dark orange… it is an unusual colour."

"Striking is the word I'd use, Ma'am," Skerrett assured her. "It'll catch the eye of everybody, I'm sure."

"But it doesn't look foul with my hair or eyes?" Victoria knew a servant would never answer that honestly even if the colour were horrid, but she could see the warmth in Skerrett's face as she promised,

"Your Majesty looks very lovely today."

Victoria breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. "Thank you, Skerrett."

She made her way to the drawing room, shooing her ladies off for the rest of the day. Inside the drawing room, Victoria, checked her reflection in the windowpane. For some reason, today she cared about a hair out of place or tired eyes. There was a knock upon the door, and then it creaked open.

"Your Majesty," said Penge, "The Prime Minister requests the honour of your attention."

"Yes. Thank you, Penge." Victoria felt nervous all of a sudden. It had been two days since Brocket Hall, and the day before, Melbourne had not been able to meet due to a fierce debate in Parliament. Now, as he walked in, Victoria found herself breathless, stricken by the sight of him and knowledge of what he meant to her. She tried to steady herself, to stand up with the perfect posture that had been drilled into her being from infancy. She held out her hand expectantly, and Melbourne immediately dipped into an obeisance and kissed her knuckles.

When he stood, the corners of his lips went up a little, and he asked,

"How are you this morning, Ma'am? I trust you slept well."

"I did not," Victoria admitted tersely. "My dreams were troubled."

Melbourne's face softened a little, and he glanced behind him to see that the door was shut.

"Is there any way your Prime Minister might make the queen's waking hours less troubled, Ma'am?"

"Oh, Lord M." Victoria bowed her head and licked her bottom lip, feeling a little dizzy. Suddenly she blurted out, "Is this colour silly?"

Melbourne looked confused then, and he shook his head as his brows knitted. "What colour?"

"This orange of my gown," Victoria specified, picking at the silk. "It seems garish, doesn't it?"

Melbourne looked utterly traumatised at having been put on the spot, and he stammered, "I… I think it is striking, Ma'am."

"Striking." Victoria grinned. "That's what Skerrett said. It is code, I wonder? Are you both being polite?"

"Who is Skerrett?" Melbourne asked, and Victoria touched her fingers to a braid.

"She does my hair."

"Oh. Well… she does a good job of it." Melbourne smirked a bit then and asked, "Did Skerrett choose the gown?"

"No," Victoria said. "My mother did."

Melbourne seemed to be stifling a laugh then, and he said very quietly, "It's an unusual colour, that's for certain. But you could wear a burlap sack and be lovely, Ma'am."

Victoria's lips fell open at the compliment, and for a moment, Melbourne looked embarrassed. But then he recovered his quirked little smile and promised her,

"I mean it."

"I suppose there are matters of business to address," Victoria posited.

"There always are," Melbourne confirmed. They went over to her desk, to the box that he opened for her. She sat, and he leaned over beside her to pull a sheet of paper out. He placed it before Victoria and said, "A bill to open more workhouses. The Tories will kill it, but…"

Victoria signed her name quickly, breathing in the heady, masculine scent of him beside her. He set the paper aside and brought out another.

"A letter to the people of Upper and Lower Canada. The sporadic rebellions are ongoing, and the letter assures them that they have the love and fidelity of their monarch."

"Will it be a real war? A revolution like America?" Victoria asked, and she looked up to see Melbourne purse his lips.

"No. I don't think so," he said. "But it certainly warrants the comforting words of Queen Victoria to help steady the shake."

Victoria read over the letter, which was formal and assuring, and then she signed her name. Melbourne pulled out the day's copy of The Times from the box and set it down, saying nothing. Victoria picked up the newspaper and stared at it. The main headline was about a whaling ship that had been lost. She stared confusedly up at Melbourne, and he flipped to an inside page and pointed to a column.

"Here, Ma'am. The columnist, an avowed monarchist, worries about the line of succession, which was already complicated with you being the niece of the former king. He writes to beg Your Majesty to marry and produce heirs as expeditiously as possible."

Victoria felt her cheeks go hot, and she slammed the newspaper down onto the table. She stared at it and barked,

"How dare that man write such a thing about me in the newspaper? How dare they all think it's any business of theirs?"

"But it is their business," Melbourne said quietly, "because they are very afraid of what will happen if… if you…"

"If I die." Victoria glared up at him and threw up an eyebrow. "Well, Lord M, I have no intention of dying anytime soon. If anyone asks, that's the official reply to any inquiries about marriage. It is irrelevant, because I intend of living the longest of lives."

"Very good, Ma'am." Melbourne jerked up half his mouth again in the way he was so wont to do. He shut the box and murmured, "That is all for today. I should get back to the House as quickly as I may; debating will be fierce again this afternoon."

"Lord M." Victoria rose, realising then how near she was to Melbourne. To her surprise, he did not back away. He stared down at her, so much taller, and she suddenly felt very small.

"There is a dance this evening," she reminded him, "for my mother's birthday. A small affair, but… she does like to celebrate her birthday, you know…"

"Yes." Melbourne cleared his throat and asked delicately, "Do you suppose your Prime Minister might snag a dance on your card, Ma'am?"

"I suppose my companion, Lord M, might." Victoria felt a sudden compulsion to touch him, to reach out and put her hands flat against his chest. She resisted the urge. She'd never wanted to touch anyone before, but she did want to touch him.

He must have been able to tell, because he somehow took a half step closer and said,

"I shall do my best to dance properly."

She scoffed and shook her head. "You're the best dancer in England and you know it."

He looked quite serious then, and he asked in a solemn voice,

"Will Her Majesty be in orange?"

She swatted instinctively at his chest and laughed.

"Lord M. You're terrible."

He gently seized her wrist and wrapped his fingers around hers, and Victoria's laughter died. He lowered their hands and brushed his thumb over hers, and Victoria found herself feeling faint.

"I have no way of knowing when I am overstepping my station," Melbourne said, "particularly given the nebulous nature of your title for me."

"Companion," she nodded. "Lord M, you're the last man on Earth who would overstep what I want of you."

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He'd done it many dozens of times. Today, here, felt different. The way his eyes bored into hers felt different. The way his lips lingered on her knuckles felt different, and Victoria said impulsively,

"Please kiss me."

"I just did," Melbourne teased, raising his eyebrows and looking more handsome than ever. He tightened his fingers around hers and whispered, "If Her Majesty wants something different, then… then she need only command her subject."

Victoria nodded. "Kiss me, Lord M."

"Yes, Ma'am." Melbourne bent to touch his lips to hers, and it was so fleeting that she almost missed it. It was the most careful brush of lip against lip. His were rough; she could tell that from the half second she got of him. When he pulled away, Victoria tingled from head to toe and demanded,

"Is that all? Rather stingy, don't you think?"

He tipped his head and said quite seriously, "I am afraid of you, you know. I do genuinely fear you."

"Why?" Victoria demanded, and Melbourne's throat bobbed beneath his cravat.

"Because," he said, "I care immensely for you. That's why."

Then he kissed her again, and this time it was not fleeting. He held her face like it was made of glass, and his lips pressed more confidently against hers. Victoria's mouth fell open in surprise, and Melbourne pulled a little at her bottom lip with his teeth. She felt her stomach flutter, felt her mind whirl, and then her hands went straight to his chest. Melbourne seemed to be drinking Victoria in, and she was so dizzy with want that she didn't even hear the little squeal that she let out. His mouth was so careful, and yet so insistent and urgent. He didn't hurt her, but it was such a new sensation that Victoria found herself with her fingers clutching at Melbourne's chest in desperation.

Finally he pulled away, his green eyes vibrant and his lips slick and swollen. His chest moved quickly up and down beneath Victoria's hands, and she felt compelled to tell him,

"You have not overstepped, Lord M."

He nodded tightly and pulled away, and Victoria felt the sting of his absence at once. She knitted her fingers together before her and noted,

"You said you needed to go to the House."

"I do. I should go at once. If I'm to be at a dance tonight, I must help the debating end sooner rather than later." Melbourne pulled his thumb over his lip and shut his eyes for a moment. Then he stared right at Victoria and told her, "I meant what I said. You could wear any fabric, any colour, and still be very beautiful indeed."

That was more than what he'd said, of course, but Victoria appreciated it just the same. She smiled a little and told him,

"Purple."

"I beg your pardon, Ma'am?" Melbourne clasped his hands behind his back, as was his way, and Victoria nodded.

"I shall be wearing purple this evening."

One corner of his mouth twitched up, and he asked,

"May I have some orchids from my greenhouse brought to you? I've precisely the right ones if you will be in purple."

"I can have Skerrett put them in my hair," Victoria said. "Would that make you happy?"

Melbourne suddenly lowered his eyes, his sharp cheekbones going pink.

"It doesn't matter what makes me happy."

"It matters to me," Victoria insisted. She took a step toward him and asked, "Would you like to dance with me whilst I have your orchids in my hair, Lord M?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse and raspy then, and his gaze traveled back up to meet hers as he nodded. "Yes. I would like that very much."

"I shall see you this evening, then," Victoria said, and Melbourne bowed very politely to her as he murmured,

"Your Majesty."

When he had gone from the room, Victoria felt the space begin to spin. She walked over to the window and touched her fingers to her lips, remembering the spicy taste of him, the feel of his mouth on hers. She shut her eyes and felt the scratch of his lips, the wet of his tongue taunting her just a little.

Yes, Victoria thought, opening her eyes. She much preferred him to a German or a Russian.


	3. Chapter 3

"This fuchsia colour is so lovely, Ma'am, if you don't mind my saying." Skerrett carefully arranged the orchids among Victoria's formally upswept hair, and she asked, "Where did the orchids come from?"

"Lord Melbourne had them sent," Victoria said simply. In the mirror, she could see Skerrett's face relax a little, as though some small thought had been confirmed. Did they know, Victoria wondered? Did they know that she adored him so ferociously? Servants talked, she knew, in their dark and forgotten quarters. Did they talk about her and Lord M?

"All pinned in, Ma'am," Skerrett confirmed. "Shall we arrange the tiara?"

"Oh. Yes… it's just there." Victoria watched as Skerrett placed the thin diamond tiara just so on Victoria's head. The girl stuck pins in about the tiara so it wouldn't move, and suddenly Victoria wondered if she would ever really feel like a queen. Sometimes she did, just a little bit, but other times it felt like it was all pretend, a game. Today, staring at her reflection with her blue sash and her diamond tiara, she felt like a little girl playing dress-up.

"All ready, Ma'am," said Skerrett. "I believe the ladies are waiting outside."

"Thank you, Skerrett. I do hope you'll find some time to enjoy yourself this evening." Victoria flashed a little smile to the girl as she stood. She rubbed Dash's head and murmured, "Wish you could come to the party, little Dash."

She made her way out of her chambers to find the four ladies she'd invited gathered. Emma Portman gasped as she curtsied, and when she rose, she declared,

"Your Majesty, you look marvelous. Wherever have you been hiding that gown?"

"I've not worn it yet. Perhaps it's too much for a birthday party, but I find I don't care," Victoria shrugged. Blanche Cavendish, another lady of the bedchamber, shook her head vehemently and declared,

"It is not too much, Ma'am. Shall we go?"

"Yes. Let's." Victoria led the way, the rustling of skirts trailing behind her as her pack followed. They wound their way through the corridors and downstairs to the ballroom. The ladies made their way inside, and Victoria stood proudly outside the entrance as Penge slapped his pole against the floor and called out,

"Her Majesty Queen Victoria of Great Britain and Ireland."

Everyone in the room bent with respect when Victoria swept into the room. The ladies dipped, their silk and velvet skirts billowing out about them, and the gentlemen all bowed deeply. One in particular caught Victoria's attention - her companion. Melbourne's eyes met Victoria's when he rose, and his lips curled up just a little.

He was old, Victoria thought distantly. Or, at least, he was much older than she was. Certainly he was old enough to be her father. But it didn't matter. She adored him.

"Niece."

Victoria snapped to rights to see her uncle, King Leopold of Belgium, standing with her mother. Victoria pasted on a little smile and said to the unpleasant man,

"Uncle. I hope we aren't boring you with all these dinners and parties. Mother, the happiest of birthdays to you."

"Thank you, Drina," nodded the Duchess of Kent. She was approached then by Sir John Conroy, the man whom Victoria despised more than anyone on Earth. This was the man who had designed the Kensington System, the living hell crafted to squelch Victoria's will. It hadn't worked. The lack of playmates, the constant companionship by overbearing adults, the insufficient education… it had backfired. Victoria wasn't the wilting little rose her mother and Sir John had tried to grow.

She was a complex orchid, difficult and free-thinking.

"Your Highness, may I claim my dance from you?" Sir John was bold with Victoria's mother, as he always was. The Duchess of Kent smiled in the way that told Victoria there was more going on between her and Sir John than mere friendship. They deferred to Victoria and then made their way to the dance floor.

"May the lowly King of the Belgians have a dance with his niece?" King Leopold extended his hand, and Victoria took it. There were only six or seven couples dancing, owing to the smaller size of the party, so there was plenty of room to move. Leopold was a large man, and Victoria worried he might tread upon her feet as they danced. She flicked her gaze over to Lord Melbourne and found herself wishing she could dance with him. She watched as he led Emma Portman onto the floor, and her stomach churned.

"Have you decided, dear niece, on whether you will meet with Albert?"

She snapped to attention and shook her head up to Leopold.

"Uncle, perhaps I have not made myself sufficiently clear. Allow me to do so now. I am not going to marry."

Leopold pinched his lips tightly as he moved to the music.

"I am sure you understand the importance of your being married," he said. "The importance of a husband, of children. You enjoy your life as it is now, but you will enjoy it even more as a wife and mother."

"Before all else, I am the Sovereign. I am the Queen of England," Victoria asserted, "and like Elizabeth before me, I will require no man to do my duty to my country."

"Your duty is to provide suitable heirs," Leopold insisted, but Victoria scowled and shot back,

"My duty, Uncle, is to be the queen. And I am performing that duty every day, curiously unwed. I will hear no more on the matter from you or anybody else. I will not see Albert, no."

Leopold's face went a little red then, and he asked carefully,

"What if I were to say that he was already on his way here with his brother?"

Victoria froze. She stopped dancing and took her hands off the King of the Belgians.

"I would say that you had disrespected my express wishes on the matter. I made it quite clear that I did not wish for you to send for my cousins."

"I thought… I thought perhaps by the time they arrived, you might be…" Leopold trailed off then, looking abashed, and Victoria struggled to control her temper. Lord Melbourne broke away from his dance partner and started to walk over, but before he arrived, Victoria snapped,

"I am the queen of this country, and if I say I do not wish to marry, I mean it. If I say I do not wish to receive my cousins, I mean it. Uncle, if you can not respect what I deem appropriate for my own self and court, then you can kindly see yourself back to the Belgians."

"Niece!" Leopold's face went purple-red, and Lord Melbourne stepped up and swiftly bowed to each monarch.

"Your Majesty. I do not mean to interrupt, but I simply can not be made to wait for your attentions any longer. I beg of you to dance with me."

"Yes." Victoria's cheeks went hot, and she took Melbourne's hand as she said over her shoulder,

"Uncle, send Ernest and Albert back to Coburg. I will not see them. Thank you."

Victoria let Melbourne sweep her into a dance then, and for a moment she said nothing.

"He has sent for them already?" Melbourne muttered, and Victoria nodded, feeling her heart pound as she seethed. Or maybe it was the feel of Melbourne's hand around hers, his palm between her shoulders. He cleared his throat and said gently,

"I realise he is your uncle, but he is also the sovereign of an ally, and it wouldn't do to -"

"He disobeyed my wishes and is just as bad as my mother."

"Just as bad as your mother?" Melbourne asked softly. Victoria swallowed the knot in her throat. She didn't feel like talking about how everyone around her had tried to mold her like clay for her entire life. She said angrily,

"I am a marionette to all of them, but they do not realise the doll is meant to be in charge. I sound like a petulant child, I know. I do not care. I do not want to marry Albert. If I see his face in court, I shall be incurable furious."

"Why don't we talk about other matters?" Melbourne suggested delicately, tightening his hand on Victoria's bare back. "Perhaps Your Majesty's mood may improve with a different topic of conversation."

"And what shall we discuss, Lord M?" Victoria said, a little too sharply. He gave her a patient smile and kept his voice low as he said,

"Allow me, I beseech you, to tell you how much prettier those orchids look in your hair than in my greenhouse."

"Well. I thank you for them," Victoria said. She stared up into Melbourne's blazing eyes, and suddenly the argument with her uncle faded from her mind. All there was was him. He was the whole room for her; the whole party lay within his eyes. At some point, the song must have ended, because Melbourne took his hand from her back and whispered,

"Ma'am."

He bowed a little, and Victoria pinched her lips.

"Will you dance again?" She knew the answer, and he didn't have to say it. It was not acceptable to dance twice. Victoria tipped her head and pointed out, "I was only given half a dance."

"And if I give you another, Ma'am, it shall be a dance and a half, and people will talk," Melbourne said. But the music started up again, and Victoria took a step toward him.

"Let them talk," she told him, raising her arm back up and urging him to put his hands on her again. He was reluctant, but once they were moving again, he told her,

"I consider myself a rather unlucky man in general, if luck exists at all. But at this moment, I do consider myself the luckiest man in all of England."

Victoria's mouth fell open then, and she whispered up to him,

"Why, Lord M, you've made the monarch blush."

The rest of the party continued in a blur of champagne and dull conversation. Victoria had one too many glasses of champagne, and, having learnt her lesson the last time she got drunk at a party, she decided to excuse herself. She said her farewells to her mother, to her ladies, and even to her uncle, and Lord Melbourne watched her as she retired from the ballroom.

As she strode down a dark corridor, she got dizzy and leaned against a wall. She shut her eyes for a moment and heard a voice say,

"May I help you back upstairs? If only so you do not walk alone."

"Lord M." Victoria tipped her head back and then gasped. "Oh, I'll have ruined the orchids."

"The heat from the candles had begun to wilt them anyway, Ma'am."

Suddenly he was close. Victoria could feel that, could feel the way his body was near hers, and she murmured,

"Yes, Lord M. You may help me upstairs."

He had her arm in his then, gently escorting her through the corridor as he told her,

"We must get you better acquainted with your natural limit of champagne, Ma'am."

She giggled a little and protested,

"But if I am just a little drunk, Lord M, it gives me cause to leave such a tedious gathering."

They were nearing her chambers, and Melbourne paused it a dark corridor illuminated only by a few wall sconces. There was nobody at all about, and Victoria just stared at him for a moment. Then she said,

"Every time I dance with you, I never want it to end. Why can't there be a party where I dance with only you for hours?"

"I would very much enjoy such a party," he said wryly, "but, alas, it does not exist. Your cousin Albert is coming from Coburg to try and convince you to marry him."

"I do not want him," Victoria insisted, shaking her head. "My heart is occupied already."

"Victoria…" He seemed to say the word before he thought, and suddenly he shut his eyes and hissed out a low breath as his throat bobbed and his hands shook. "I apologise. I may have overindulged myself, or -"

"You weren't drinking," Victoria reminded him, for she'd been watching him the whole party. She reached up to put her hands on his chest, and she whispered,

"You said my name. What of it? It is only a name. You have one, same as I."

"You never use it, though." He turned up half his mouth, and his eyes were warm. Victoria wanted then to kiss him. She wanted it very badly indeed. But she just hummed into the darkness,

"William."

His face shifted a little, and he shook his head as he warned Victoria,

"You mustn't let me near like this."

"And why not? Are you a very dangerous beast?" Victoria demanded. Melbourne shook his head and said,

"I hope not. I do know that I am but a man… a man who cares deeply for you with nothing to do about it."

"You may kiss us goodnight, Lord Melbourne," Victoria said, using her regal pronoun on purpose. She reached up to take his face in her hands, and she nodded. "That is what you might do about it. We can see ourselves to our rooms. We shall send for our maids. You needn't worry over us. But you may kiss us goodnight, and we shall be grateful for it."

"As you command, Your Majesty." Melbourne seemed immensely nervous then as he bent to Victoria's small height. His hands went to her waist, which would have incensed her if she hadn't wanted him so badly. His lips pressed against hers, and suddenly Victoria found herself wondering just what Lehzen had meant when she'd talked of women and men being physical together. Couldn't that ever be between her and Lord M, whatever it was?

Her body came alight as the kiss deepened. His lips were insistent and his tongue was curious, and soon enough Victoria found herself kissing him back. Little nibbles and nicks with careful teeth, a tongue stroking the roof of her mouth, hands tightening… it all felt like it was leading somewhere more exciting. But then, very abruptly, Lord Melbourne pulled back and dropped to one knee, taking Victoria's hand in his and kissing her fingers. When he stood, he said quickly,

"Goodnight, Ma'am."

He started to walk away, far more quickly than he usually walked, and Victoria called after him,

"Dispatches at ten tomorrow?"

He turned back and nodded, looking red-cheeked and almost frightened.

"Yes, Ma'am," he affirmed. "Just like always. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, William," Victoria whispered, to herself and herself alone. She watched him go, feeling as though a flame had been lit and then snuffed out by water. Anxious and a little drunk, she continued down the corridor to her rooms.

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
"Your Majesty… The Prime Minister, Ma'am."

"Yes. Thank you, Penge." Victoria stood with her back ramrod straight as Lord Melbourne came into her drawing room. Penge shut the door, and Melbourne descended to one knee as Victoria held out her gloved hand. Melbourne kissed it and rose, and Victoria felt her heart accelerate. She cleared her throat and said carefully,

"Straight to business, then, I should think."

"There really are no dispatches of note for Your Majesty this morning," Melbourne said, shrugging helplessly. When Victoria frowned, he clarified, "Nothing that requires a signature. Legislation is stalled in Parliament. There are no national disasters or anything terribly exciting to report. I might have sent a letter informing you that our meeting was unnecessary, Ma'am, but I…"

He stopped then, blinking quickly and lowering his eyes. Victoria nodded. The last time they'd seen one another, she'd been up against a wall with him kissing her furiously. The day after felt stilted, as though the happenings of the night before had dug a chasm between them.

"How is your head this morning, Ma'am?" Melbourne asked, and she smiled a bit as the throbbing in her forehead took centre stage again.

"A twinge of regret in the form of a headache. Nothing more," she promised. He looked pleased at that, and then he said quietly,

"I find myself very glad you made your way safely to your rooms last night. I admit that… after I walked away, I worried a bit."

"I was not so very intoxicated as that, Lord M." When he met her eyes then, she said firmly, "Whatever actions I undertook last night… the influence of champagne upon those actions was minimal, I assure you. I behaved under my own volition."

"Did you, Ma'am?" Melbourne stared straight into her eyes, something most people were afraid to do, and Victoria found herself struggling against her corset for breath.

"Since business is so minimal, Lord M, I wonder if you might ride out with me," Victoria said. Melbourne frowned and glanced out the towering window.

"It seems as though it may rain, Ma'am," he noted, but Victoria shrugged and told him,

"Then I suppose we may get a little wet. Will you come?"

"Of course, Ma'am. Shall I meet you at the stables?"

She nodded, and he bowed and turned to go.

"Wait." Victoria went after him, and when Melbourne turned around, the hint of a smile danced upon his lips. Victoria took his hands in hers and asked in a whisper,

"Are you sorry for it?"

His smile vanished. "Sorry for what, Ma'am?"

"Are you sorry for kissing me last night?" She squeezed at his hands a little, and he shook his head.

"No, Ma'am. I do not suppose I could ever be sorry for such a thing."

Victoria was tempted to kiss him again then, but she had things to discuss with him, and they were better done on horseback.

An hour later, the two of them set off from the stables, Victoria in her red and blue riding costume and Melbourne in all black. His hat looked particularly elegant upon his head today for some reason. As Victoria's bay gelding plodded alongside Melbourne's darker mount, she found herself staring. He kept his eyes forward but finally asked in a playful tone,

"Have I spilled something down my front, Majesty?"

She scoffed and shook her head. "Am I not allowed to look at you?"

"You are allowed to do as you please," he said, and his voice seemed quite serious about that. Victoria's stomach clenched with nerves then as she said,

"Yes. Well. As to that. My uncle tells me that my cousins will be arriving at the palace tonight. I mean to make it very plain that I have no intention of marrying either of them."

Melbourne squared his jaw as a bird squawked loudly nearby. He adjusted his hold on his reins and kept his eyes forward as he pointed out,

"Ma'am, there will be great discontent if you dig your heels in on the matter of marriage."

"Dig in my heels?" Her voice was shrill, she knew, but she didn't care. She glanced over her shoulder and ensured that they were entirely alone. Then she pulled her horse to a stop, and Melbourne did the same. Victoria tipped her chin up a little and said,

"I mean to marry, Lord Melbourne. I do not mean to marry Albert."

He shut his eyes, and his lips fell open a little as he noted,

"Your Majesty is an expert in knowing what she wants and seeking it out."

"William."

He looked up at the sound of his name, and there was pain in his eyes as he shook his head.

"So very much would be at risk. You more than anything. I can not be responsible for a crisis, for -"

"Forgive me, Lord Melbourne, but are you not a viscount and a widower?"

He hesitated, then nodded once. "I am, Ma'am."

Victoria brought her impatient horse under control and demanded of Melbourne,

"And are you not an Englishman devoted to the betterment of your country?"

His eyes shut again, and he said,

"I should like to think of myself as such."

"Then… Lord M. William." Victoria waited until his gaze locked with hers, and she asked primly, "Would you grant me the enormous honour of becoming my husband?"

Surely he had been expecting this, ever since she'd confessed herself to him at Brocket Hall, but he still looked completely shocked. He shook his head and muttered,

"The scandal of it… neither of us would recover."

"I am in love with you, I think," Victoria said plainly. The time for a dance of words was over. Either he would marry her or he would not; she cared nothing for a scandal. He seemed just as shocked by this declaration as the one that had come before, so Victoria nervously inquired, "Are my feelings so entirely unrequited, Lord M?"

"Of course not," he replied. His black jacket was speckled by raindrops then, and Victoria felt them dust her nose. They should go back in before the rain grew heavy, she thought. But all she could do was stare at him and whisper,

"I ought not beg anyone for anything, but I will do it now."

"Marrying you would be the most profound honour I could ever be accorded in life, Ma'am," Melbourne said carefully, "and I will gladly battle the talk and surrender my political life. All this I will do for the immeasurable bliss that I suspect I would experience as your husband. If you ask it of me truly, then… of course I shall marry you."

Victoria's eyes burned, and she ignored the way the rain had begun to fall harder.

"I want to kiss you," she said impulsively, but Melbourne glanced back toward the palace and then murmured,

"Inside, perhaps."

Victoria was shaking with excitement, but Melbourne was already talking politics.

"It would all need to happen on the same day," he mused. "The meeting with the Privy Council, my formal resignation, the announcement that you were placing a great many Tory allies in your household…"

She'd fought with him on that matter before, but she understood it now. If the queen meant to marry a Whig politician, the Tories would lose their collective sanity over the blatant favoritism. It would take a concerted effort to pepper her life with the opposition if she meant to have Melbourne for herself.

"Perhaps," Melbourne said quietly, "you ought to at least meet with your cousins and see what you think of them."

"You do not wish to marry me," Victoria guessed, and he looked very offended through the pounding sheet of rain that had begun to cascade from the heavens.

"Your Majesty, I want nothing more in all the world than your presence," he promised her. Victoria felt herself swell up a little at that, and she nodded as she turned her horse back.

"Right, then. It is settled. Thank you, Lord M."

* * *

 

Albert was disagreeable.

He was stern and no fun at all, and when Victoria first danced with him, it was like dancing with a wooden statue. He was handsome enough, and young like her, but she couldn't stomach the thought of marrying him. That was mostly because he was not William Lamb, Viscount Melbourne.

When at last she got to dance with Melbourne, everything felt right again. He moved so easily, so elegantly, and he held her as though she were very precious to him. His eyes were mesmerising in the candlelight, and halfway through the dance, Victoria asked him,

"Is your answer still yes?"

"Yes," he nodded. Victoria grinned then, unable to stop herself from beaming up at him, and she whispered,

"I want to tell everyone. I want to shout it here in this room."

"That wouldn't do well, I don't think." Melbourne flicked his eyes about and smirked. Then his face went serious, and he said so quietly that no one else could hear, "I never did get that kiss from yesterday, Your Majesty."

"And I have been aching for it ever since," she informed him. Beside her, Albert was dancing with her mother, and Victoria shut her eyes. "When can an announcement be made?"

"As soon as there exists reassurance of a Tory-dominated household, Ma'am," he said patiently. Victoria scoffed and said,

"Well. That's easily done. I care for my ladies, but they've lives of their own. Get me a list of wives you recommend, and I shall have it ready for the Privy Council."

"You can call them to meet tomorrow or the day after, if you wish," Melbourne said. Suddenly everything felt very real, very heavy. The dance ended, but Victoria shook her head and whispered,

"Dance with me again, Lord M."

He swept her straight back into the beat and nodded. "As you wish, Ma'am."

Author's Note: Well, Victoria is getting what she wanted when she first went to Brocket Hall. But once she announces her decision to the Privy Council (and to her mother and uncles!), how will the nation react? I know this one is a slowwww burn, but I promise that these two will get physical. I'm trying to make this alternative history at least vaguely realistic. :) If you get a quick moment to just drop a message and let me know what you think of the story, I would REALLY appreciate it. Thank you so much in advance for reading and reviewing.


	5. Chapter 5

"Uncle Sussex." Victoria nodded to the middle-aged man before her, but he looked confused as his eyes flicked from his niece to Lord Melbourne.

"Your Majesty. My most beloved niece. I do hope all is well."

"So it is, Uncle." Victoria walked briskly up to her throne and sat, feeling a little angry for a moment at the way her feet still dangled a bit. She waited for the gentlemen of the Privy Council to give her their undivided attention, and she opened the scroll. The writing on it was Melbourne's; he'd drafted the declaration for her this morning. This would be unusual, he'd warned her. This wasn't what any of them were expecting, and so the verbiage he'd used had been cautious. Victoria tried to steady her hands on the paper and read aloud,

"Since last we met, I have made a decision which I know may not be popular at the present time. I know that My Lords will trust in their monarch. I have proposed marriage to The Right Honourable William Lamb, Second Viscount Melbourne."

There was a little hiss of whispers then, and all the eyes in the room went in shock from Victoria to Melbourne and back again. Victoria turned to Melbourne to see him nod once, looking more frightened than she'd ever seen him. Victoria cleared her throat and said firmly,

"Lord Melbourne will immediately resign his position as this nation's Prime Minister, a post in which he has served the country with honour. For my part, I shall ensure that my household reflects the diverse political views of the Privy Council. I pray that God will bestow blessings upon this union, and that it will be in the best interests of my people and my own happiness."

She rolled up the scroll and set it aside, and the room was heavy with silence. Then the Duke of Wellington stepped forward and bowed a little.

"Your Majesty," he said, glaring a bit at Lord Melbourne, "it is more than a little unconventional, and frankly more than a little alarming, that the sovereign should marry a partisan statesman still engaged in his political career."

Victoria tried not to narrow her eyes.

"But I have just told you that he will be resigning as Prime Minister."

"Indeed… I have already done so to Her Majesty. And for you, I have this." Melbourne stepped forward and pulled a folded paper from the chest of his jacket. He handed it over to Wellington, who read aloud,

"In order to leave no question of royal impartiality, I do hereby resign and retire permanently from all political activity. And you've signed it."

Wellington raised his eyes to Victoria and said firmly,

"Your Majesty, I do still find this marriage most irregular."

"But my very reign as queen is irregular, is it not?" Victoria said, tipping her head. "And, in any case, I am engaging myself in the marriage I have chosen for a good many reasons. All will be well."

"Please allow me to congratulate my niece on this momentous and… and joyous announcement." Sussex stepped in then, and Victoria could have embraced him. He nodded firmly, and the rest of the Privy Council began mumbling their congratulations. They might distrust Melbourne, they might find his past shameful or his position in politics and society undesirable. But Victoria was their queen, and they could not reject her on this.

An hour later, Victoria sat staring at her lunch, not having taken a single bite and feeling disinclined to do so. Finally the Duchess of Kent said from down the table,

"Drina, are you not hungry?"

"I am marrying Lord Melbourne, Mother," said Victoria, still looking at her food. There was a clatter as the Duchess uncharacteristically dropped her fork, and when Victoria raised her eyes, her mother looked wholly scandalised. So, too, did the Baroness Lehzen, who gasped a little and then muttered,

"Congratulations."

"Drina."

Victoria looked to her mother, who shook her head, sending her tight curls shaking wildly.

"You can not do this. Albert has come all the way from Coburg to -"

"He will have to go all the way back, I'm afraid." Victoria pinched her lips and huffed, "We will inform Uncle Leopold that the matter has already been settled. And it has, Mother. It has been settled. I am marrying Lord M, because I love him."

The Duchess scoffed obnoxiously. "You are the queen of England. Love is irrelevant."

"It is not, and I will not sit here and be lectured on the matter. It is settled. Whether you choose to attend the wedding or not is your decision."

With that, Victoria flew up from her chair and stormed from the room, sending everyone else clattering to rise.

"All finished, Majesty." Skerrett pushed the last pin into Victoria's hair, and she stepped back. Victoria stared into the mirror and asked pointedly,

"What are people saying?"

Skerrett's mouth fell agape like that of a fish, and she stammered,

"I - I couldn't say, Ma'am… I don't pay much attention to gossip."

"I'm quite certain you hear the rumours whether you pay attention to them or not. Tell me. What are people saying?"

Skerrett sighed nervously. "They are saying… Ma'am… that the queen is marrying for love. That it is an English lord, not a German or a Russian as many feared. They are saying that perhaps Lord Melbourne has swayed Your Majesty's mind, but they view it as a great romance, too. Or, at least, that's what I've heard."

Victoria quirked up half her mouth. "But of course, you weren't paying much attention."

"No, Ma'am." Skerrett smiled back, then curtsied and showed herself out of the room.

"Enter."

Victoria looked up from her book and then shut it when the library door opened and shut. Lord Melbourne stood looking more than a little nervous, his fingers cinching and relaxing at his sides. Victoria stood, and when she neared him, he knelt down and waited for her to hold out her hand. But Victoria reminded him,

"You are no longer my Prime Minister, Lord M. There is no need for kissing hands."

"One last time?" He raised his green eyes, and Victoria felt dizzy with sudden admiration for him. She held out her right hand, her fingers lightly closed, and she watched as he stared at her, touching his lips to the back of her hand. Then he squeezed her fingers carefully and rose, saying,

"Wellington will make a government."

"I'm sure he is very pleased about that," Victoria sniped. Melbourne cocked his head.

"Peel would have it, but the Tories will stay with Wellington for now. I do wish it were someone younger, more fresh. Wellington left his glory days on the fields at Waterloo, I think. But the nation will be just fine."

"And you?" Victoria asked quietly. "Will you mourn politics?"

"Mourn it?" Melbourne's eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head. "I embrace this newfound peace. Already my heart has decelerated at night. For years I went to sleep with my heart racing over one issue or another, but last night it thumped at a snail's pace."

"How wondrous for your heart," Victoria grinned, and Melbourne reached for her hand as he confessed,

"It's speeding up again now, though."

"Is it?" Victoria leaned forward and peeled his coat away. She pressed her ear to his shirt and heard a thrumming there that picked up speed with each passing second. She felt Melbourne's arms wrap about her, pulling her even closer against him. She was so much shorter than him that she could easily lean onto his chest, and she did. She relaxed against him, feeling his fingertips stroke between her shoulder blades, and then his lips touched the top of her head.

"We should set a date, Ma'am," he murmured, and for some reason that last word seemed strange just now. Melbourne continued, "The ceremony should be quite small. I'm sure you understand why."

"You have already lived through scandal." She nodded against him. "But the people think we are a love story."

"Who told you that?"

She pulled back and smiled up at him. "Skerrett."

"The hair girl," Melbourne nodded. He had gone through hell with his wife, Victoria knew. Caroline's obsession with Lord Byron had nearly shamed Lord Melbourne into oblivion. But he had risen from those ashes, and she was determined to make him happy.

"Why are you marrying me?" She reached up for his jaw, which tensed beneath her fingers as he shrugged and said,

"Because you asked me to, Ma'am."

"But do you want to do it?" Victoria demanded, and he just nodded.

"Very much."

"Will it hurt the first time?" Victoria had always felt more open with Melbourne than with anyone else, but his eyebrows still went up. He knew what she meant. He stiffened beneath her hands and said delicately,

"It may hurt just a little, but I promise… I promise to be gentle. I promise that in time, you will enjoy it. I shall see to that."

Victoria grinned, feeling an odd throb that went from her abdomen down to the place between her legs. She shifted where she stood and stared up into Melbourne's eyes.

"Lord M," she whispered, "I do think we should set a date, and I think it should be as soon as the logistics will allow. I find I do not fear that pain. I… long for you. I don't even know what it is that I want, but I know that I want it. Does that make sense?"

"It does." Melbourne bent to touch his lips to hers, and Victoria found herself abruptly ravenous. She took his jaws in her hands and then kissed him, pushing his lips open with her own. Melbourne sucked in breath hard and held Victoria's narrow waist, his lips trembling a little as he let Victoria explore his mouth. She got brave, dragging her tongue over the roof of his mouth and sucking his lip through her teeth, and Melbourne let out a strange little sound.

"Have I hurt you?" Victoria asked worriedly, but he shook his head and pulled her against him again. There was something firm against her abdomen, and Victoria pulled back and glanced down at Melbourne's breeches. There was a hard lump there between his legs, and Victoria felt suddenly confused. She raised her eyes to see that his high cheekbones had flushed dark pink, and he assured her,

"It means that I enjoy kissing you. That's all."

Victoria's fingers moved of their own accord, her knuckles brushing against the lump as Melbourne hissed out a breath and tipped his head back a little.

"Does that hurt?" She was curious now, as she always was, but he indulged her.

"No. It doesn't hurt."

Victoria tipped her head and deepened her touch, feeling the firmness swell up a little. His manhood was there, she knew. She'd seen a diagram of one once, but it hadn't appeared hard. Lehzen had told her that a man used his member to put a child in a woman, but Victoria still wasn't certain about how that happened. But he knew. Lord M knew.

"William," she said, and he blinked slowly as he lowered his gaze to her. Victoria kept stroking at him and asked, "Does it happen straight away when you put it into a woman? Is that when a child is made?"

He looked amused then, turning up one side of his mouth even as his breath quickened in his nostrils.

"That wouldn't be any fun," he told her. "There's more to it than that."

"More what?" Victoria demanded, and he cocked up an eyebrow.

"More… motion. More kissing. More touching. And at the very end of it, when it feels so good that the man can't take it anymore… that is when a child might be made. Not every single time, of course. It is rather like rolling dice, I think."

"You will teach me all of this?" She sounded desperate and a little scared, she knew, but in these matters, she was ignorant. He just nodded and cupped her jaw.

"Of course, Ma'am. But I must tell you that if you do not stop touching me the way you are now, there will be a colossal mess in my breeches that would take some explaining."

"A mess," Victoria repeated, pulling her hand away and admiring the way the bulge had grown under her touch. "What sort of mess."

He seemed to be stifling a laugh then, and he said,

"The sort of mess that can make a child in the right circumstance. We men are messy creatures."

"So are we women," Victoria countered. "I suppose all human beings are messy creatures."

"An abominably messy race, humankind," Melbourne agreed. He shut his eyes and breathed slowly, seemingly trying to collect himself. Victoria stared unabashedly at the lump in his breeches, watching as it faded just a little. The ache between her legs was strong now, throbbing and wet, and she whispered,

"I feel as though I am craving you, Lord M."

"You may well be," he said softly, "but there is scandal enough with everything progressing in the course society has deemed legal and holy. I wish I could help you feel release, Ma'am, but for now chastity is a virtue."

"I do not like waiting," Victoria huffed, and he smiled more broadly as he shook his head.

"No. You do not. It is one of the characteristics I find most charming about you - your impatience. But in this, Majesty, there must be patience."

"Victoria."

He swallowed hard and shook his head.

"To me, until vows are exchanged, you are my sovereign and nothing else. Ma'am."

"Well, in that case, perhaps you ought to kiss me goodbye on the hand instead of the lips," Victoria snapped, and Melbourne squeezed his jaw. He sighed, taking her face in his hands and lowering his lips to brush against hers.

"Victoria," he whispered, kissing her so delicately that she nearly swooned. He stood upright, bowed a little, and pulled open the door, leaving Victoria feeling hot-blooded and unfulfilled in the library.

Author's Note: Yes, there will definitely be a teacher/student sort of dynamic here (or mentor/mentee) since that's the rapport the characters had on the show. The age difference and very different life experience will come into play, too. For those still reading, thank you very kindly and PLEASE leave a quick comment if you get a few seconds. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's Note: Okay… Actual Smut Ahead! Ye be warned!

"Harriet."

"Yes, Ma'am." The Duchess of Sutherland smiled knowingly, looking serene if not happy. Victoria lowered her eyes and set down her glass of apple juice.

"There is a Tory government forming."

"Yes, Ma'am," Harriet nodded, and Victoria huffed,

"Lord Melbourne insists that I must be cooperative in rearranging my household. If he is to be the husband of the queen, the queen's ladies can not be of the Whig persuasion."

"Majesty, I understand entirely, and shall always remain your most devoted friend and ally, regardless of my post." Harriet's smile widened a little, and Victoria shrugged.

"And, you see, this is precisely why I do not want you to go. You are the last I have informed, though I am sure you knew this was coming. I do not dismiss anyone lightly now. I pray I will not be seen as selfish."

"You will be seen as prudent, Ma'am. Respectful." Harriet nodded firmly, but her eyes suddenly went a little red.

"Lady Frances Cowper will be replacing your position," Victoria said, and Harriet smiled yet again. This time it did not vaguely reach her eyes.

"Lady Frances is an excellent choice," she said. "The niece of Lord Melbourne. Surrounded in her family by Tory politicians. It is a suitable selection indeed, Ma'am."

"I appreciate your graciousness more than I can say," Victoria told Harriet honestly. "My wedding to Lord Melbourne will be very small indeed. I shall have only four bridesmaids. Lady Frances will be one, and I would very much like if you would serve as one, also."

Harriet looked surprised. "Majesty. What an unexpected honour. I would have thought perhaps it would be Lady Elizabeth Russell…"

"She is the third, and Lady Wilhelmina Stanhope will be the fourth," nodded Victoria. "All strategically selected, but you I ask as a friend."

"Ma'am, I can think of no greater joy than to accompany you on your wedding day," Harriet smiled. She paused a moment and then asked, "May I ask Your Majesty… do you adore him very much?"

Victoria nodded. "I do. Ferociously. Thank you, Harriet. I'm afraid I've other meetings today. Busy, you know, with the wedding only six weeks off."

"Of course, Ma'am." Harriet rose when Victoria did, and the taller woman curtsied deeply. "It has been, and always will be, my very greatest pleasure to serve you."

Victoria put her hand on Harriet's shoulder and sighed.

"Farewell, my dear lady."

* * *

 

"Well? How did it go?"

Victoria sat in her drawing room, and Melbourne joined her, situating himself on the divan beside her.

"I asked for very little," he said. "I told them I had funds of my own, that I am a viscount, but…"

"But what?" Victoria snapped, and Melbourne twitched up a corner of his mouth.

"I have, it seems, more friends in Parliament than I had anticipated. The vote passed easily. Forty thousand a year and… and Prince Consort."

"Prince," Victoria's lips felt dry all of a sudden, and then she broke into an enormous grin. "They are making you Prince Consort?"

"Apparently," he nodded. "I insisted that a Dukedom would more than suffice, but… friends of Lord Grey insisted right back. So I shall be Prince William, and by brother Frederick will become Viscount Melbourne."

"So am I not to call you 'Lord M'?" Victoria flashed him a weak little smile, and Melbourne dragged his thumb over the knee of his breeches.

"Your Majesty must call me whatever you wish to call me," he said, and his eyes looked very lovely then. Victoria swallowed hard and told him,

"And you are to call me Victoria."

"If that is what you wish," he replied, and she nodded once.

"It is what I wish."

"All right, then." He wet his bottom lip and asked lightly, "Will you be wearing orange for the ceremony?"

She tried not to roll her eyes, but she did laugh a little.

"White," she said, and his eyebrows went up.

"White," he repeated. His eyes flicked up and down her body, and he nodded as he whispered again, "White."

"And you shall be in red. With a sash for a prince," Victoria mused. Melbourne's lips moved a little, lost halfway between a smile and a scowl, and he finally asked,

"Do you think it will suit me?"

"Wearing red?" Victoria was surprised by the inquiry. He shook his head.

"Being Prince Consort."

"I think you shall suit the post most admirably, William." Victoria reached for his hand but couldn't reach, and he obligingly slid closer to her on the divan and put her hand in his lap. He turned her hand over and started to rub his thumb in gentle circles on her palm. It felt remarkably good, better than anything physical from him had felt, and Victoria's heart sped up. She started to feel warm all over, and when she met William Lamb's eyes, she felt compelled to tell him,

"I do love you, you know."

He shook his head. "Not half so much as the other way round, I assure you."

"You love me?" Victoria wanted to hear him say it. He scoffed a little and shrugged.

"I have adored you since the moment I met you, and love settled into my veins not so very long thereafter. I tried to quell it, but it consumed me, I think."

"Have you thought often of me?" Victoria asked, and there was a beat of heavy silence before he answered her,

"There have been many days when I have thought of little else."

"Oh, Lord M." Victoria was distracted for a moment then by Dash, who had crawled up onto the desk in the corner where she'd forgotten a small pastry. Victoria flew to her feet, wrenching her hand from Melbourne's as she scampered over to pull the dog from the table. "Dash, you naughty creature. No, no. That's not allowed, not at all. Go sit in your bed, Dash. Go. Bed."

She must look ridiculous, she thought, commanding her dog about until he curled up in the velvet cushion that had been made for him. But when she turned back, Melbourne was smiling broadly at her, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

"What?" Victoria demanded. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing's funny, Ma'am," he insisted. "It's only that you're rather charming when you're disciplining your spaniel, that's all."

Victoria's cheeks went warm, and she said in a dangerous yet playful tone,

"Best watch yourself, William, or I'll discipline you, too."

His eyebrows climbed his forehead, and then he burst into a little cough of disbelieving laughter. He shook his head and said,

"I told you I feared you. It seems I had good reason."

"No." Victoria approached him, taking his face in her hands and dragging her fingers over his rough cheeks. Then she tipped her head and mused, "In a few weeks, we will be married."

He nodded, his smile getting more crooked.

"I hope so, Ma'am," he said, "or else I've made entirely unreasonable requests of Parliament."

Victoria tightened her hold on his face a little, and she demanded,

"Explain it to me."

"Explain what?" He guided them down to sit again, and Victoria felt nerves strike her through.

"I do not wish to go into my wedding night entirely ignorant, particularly when you have such experience."

He seemed a little embarrassed then, and he seemed to be struggling with his throat as he said,

"It is an act best learnt through doing, not explaining, I think."

Victoria scowled. "Am I to touch you whilst we do it, or do I just lie there?"

"Victoria." He said her name in a low hiss and shut his eyes. "I promise you that I will show you. Carefully, very carefully, I will show you. I will be thorough in my instruction. I promise it."

"Show me now," Victoria ordered him, and he threw his hands up.

"How on Earth am I meant to do that? The moral considerations aside, Ma'am, there is the matter of a great many petticoats."

"William." She stared at him for a moment, seeing the desperation in his eyes and finding herself unable to stand the thought of five more weeks' waiting. She slid over on the divan and patted the spot beside him. "Please, will you explain it to me now?"

He rose, rubbing his palms on his breeches as if to rid them of nervous sweat. He sank down beside Victoria and eyed her voluminous skirts.

"Can you… hike them up a little?" His voice was hoarse and scratchy, and Victoria acted quickly to assuage his apparent anxiety. She reached down as best she could in her corset, and she pulled the many layers of skirts up with curled fingers. He could see her stockings now, she knew. She couldn't care. In fact, it aroused her a little to know that he was flicking his eyes to her ankles, then her calves and her knees. His eyelids fluttered as he finally whispered,

"That will do."

He reached over then and put his hand carefully on Victoria's slim thigh. He slid his fingertips around her skin, and suddenly Victoria was on fire.

"William," she whispered frantically, for his touch was overwhelming even through her drawers. He seemed more than a little overwhelmed, too, his throat bobbing madly as his breath audibly quickened. He dragged his fingers upward, up the inside of Victoria's thigh, all the way until he reached the slit of her open drawers. Victoria gasped, her hands gripping her skirts as Melbourne pulled the fabric open. His fingers carefully made their way inside, examining the wet satin folds he found there. A very strange noise came from him then, and he informed her,

"I shall put my manhood here."

"You will rub it about like you're doing with your fingers?" Victoria asked. Melbourne looked amused, his uneven smile growing and his eyes sparkling. He pressed the pads of two fingers against her entrance, the place from which her blood came each month, and Victoria gasped again, squirming on the divan.

"It goes in here," Melbourne said matter-of-factly. Victoria's cheeks went hot as flame, and she glared at him for a moment as she shook her head.

"I felt it in your breeches. It won't fit."

He gave her a reassuring little smile and said carefully,

"I assure you it will. The female body is divinely designed to accommodate a man. The pain the first time is simply because you've never had to… accommodate… anyone."

Victoria's mouth fell open. "And then you… move? How?"

"Like this." Melbourne pushed his fingers inside her body, stopping when he hit the barrier that Victoria hadn't known was there. He pulled his fingers out again and then pushed them back in, and Victoria shut her eyes. Suddenly he was much closer; he'd moved to hover over her a little. As Victoria tipped her head back, Melbourne's lips went to her neck, and she cried out against her will

His thumb started moving, working circles on the hypersensitive button of flesh where Victoria had teased herself once or twice. She whined as all the sensations combined. It was too much. The smell of him, heavy and masculine. The feel of his mouth latching onto her neck and dragging around the skin there. The low hum of his voice vibrating against her. His fingers gently pushing in and out, just a little. His thumb, his magnificent thumb, pushing and circling with just the right pressure.

Something was building inside of Victoria, like a flame that had caught onto kindling and was flaring up. She arched her back and let go of her skirts, reaching on instinct to stroke at Melbourne's manhood through his breeches. He groaned on her neck as her fingers traced the length, massaging the member through the wool of his clothes.

"Victoria," he murmured, his thumb speeding up a little and deepening its pressure. That was it; it was all over. Victoria moaned like an utter whore, feeling an erratic clenching from her body around Melbourne's fingers.

"Oh, Lord M," she whispered, deciding at once that she'd never be able to stop calling him that. The ringing in her ears quieted, and the throbbing between her legs gave way to a sweeping sense of satisfaction. Melbourne pulled his fingers from beneath Victoria's skirts, and she saw with humiliation that they were covered in a slick, clear fluid. He glanced down to his breeches, to a wet spot on the beige wool, and he cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, "I'm a proper mess."

He reached with his left hand into his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his fingers and dabbing helplessly at the obvious spot on his breeches.

"What happened?" Victoria demanded, lowering her skirts. Melbourne's mouth quirked up, and he kept his eyes down as he told her,

"If it feels good enough for either party, that is the reward. Did you enjoy it?"

Victoria flushed again, but she whispered, "Yes. I enjoyed it very much."

"Good," Melbourne nodded, his green eyes steady at last, "because I mean to make you experience that and more every single night, Victoria."

She shivered then, with want and anticipation and love for him, and she just nodded silently.

"I ought to go clean myself up properly," he told her. "Bit uncomfortable inside the breeches, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Of course. I'm sorry, Lord M."

"You're going to call me that forever, won't you?" They both rose, and he took her face in his clean left hand and bent to kiss her lips gently. "Don't worry. I'll still prefer to be your Lord M, even when I'm a prince to the others."

"Will I see you at dinner?" Victoria asked anxiously, and Melbourne nodded firmly.

"Tonight and every night. Ma'am." He dipped formally to his knee, though it was hardly necessary anymore. He must like to do this, Victoria thought, holding out her hand to him. He must like to stare up at her with his lips on her hand.

For her part, she didn't mind one bit.

Author's Note: Oh, Lord M, indeed. I must say, I am very much looking forward to writing their wedding night. I just love the two of them together (as presented on the show). I would love, love, love to hear from anyone reading this. Thanks very much. :)


	7. Chapter 7

  
**Author's Note: *chants* Wedding night! Wedding night! Wedding night!**

"Just the flowers," Victoria said quietly, and Skerrett nodded as she pulled the diamond tiara away. Today Victoria was a bride before she was a queen. As Skerrett started pinning the crown of white blossoms into her veiled hair, Victoria studied her reflection and hoped she looked good enough for him, for her Lord M. There was a knock on the door all of a sudden, and Skerrett frowned at Victoria in the mirror. Victoria nodded. "Will you open it?"

"Ma'am." Skerrett moved briskly to the door, and the moment she opened it, she exclaimed, "My Lord! With all respect, sir, ought you not be at St. James' already? And I don't think you're meant to see Her Majesty before -"

"Miss Skerrett, is it?"

Victoria stared into the mirror at the door, still unable to see the man she was about to marry. He continued,

"I applaud your concern, Miss Skerrett, and I thank you for it. But if I may have just a moment alone with Her Majesty."

"Of course, My Lord." Skerrett curtsied first to Melbourne, then turned and asked, "Majesty, is there anything else I might do for you?"

"You've done our hair up splendidly today, Miss Skerrett. Thank you kindly. You may go." Victoria watched Skerrett dip low and head out of the room, and then Melbourne walked in. He shut the door behind him, and Victoria stared at him in the mirror.

"Skerrett's right, you know. It's bad luck to see a bride before the ceremony."

"I do not hold much faith in luck, Ma'am," Melbourne said. He stepped up behind her and put his hands upon her shoulders. "I could spend an hour standing here telling you how beautiful you are today, but I shall make myself brief. I only came, Victoria, to… to tell you that I love you very much indeed, and to inform you that today I am the luckiest man in all the world. Will you stand for just one moment?"

Victoria tried not to cry at his words, knowing her eyes would be red and puffy if she did. She pulled herself to her feet and turned a little, saying gently,

"My party will be here to take me to St James' in just a moment."

"Mine is angrily waiting for me already," he smiled. He brushed his thumb under Victoria's eye, and he just stared at her for a few seconds. Victoria eyed his scarlet coat and his new royal sash, and she informed him,

"The red suits you."

"And you are radiant in white. Like an angel descended to grace us." Melbourne leaned to touch his lips to Victoria's cheekbone. Then he lowered himself to one knee, and Victoria's stomach flopped. She held out her hand, clad in a fine new kid glove, and she whispered,

"You needn't do this anymore."

"I will always do it, Ma'am." Melbourne brushed his lips over the back of her hand and then caressed her wrist with his thumb. He looked up at her, his green eyes magnificent, and he opened his mouth to speak. But there was an insistent knocking on the door, and the Lord Chamberlain barked,

"Your Majesty, I apologise, but Lord Melbourne's presence is required immediately. We are quite late, Ma'am."

"Thank you," Victoria called. Melbourne rose to his feet again, and he curled up half his mouth as he told her,

"I shall see you there, Ma'am."

Victoria nodded. "Goodbye, Lord M."

* * *

 

"William, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?"

Melbourne flicked his eyes to Victoria and quirked up a little smile, and then he said more seriously,

"I will."

The rest of the ceremony plodded onward, and Victoria found herself unable to stay still through it. She shifted on her feet, as wiggly as Lehzen had ever deemed her, anxious for it to be over so that she could have her Lord M for her own. These past five weeks of waiting had been interminable; she had wanted him badly ever since their illicit dalliance on the divan. He'd given her a taste of him, and she wanted so much more. When at last they were pronounced husband and wife, they made their way out of St James' to the pealing of bells and the delighted cheers of the masses.

The banquet was tedious, even if the cake was magnificent and the company supportive. Victoria's Uncle Leopold had long since returned to the Continent with his nephews of Coburg, and the guests were largely limited to Victoria's closest family and the Lamb family. Frederick, was meant to become the new viscount, but he and his brother had determined that Frederick would remain the Baron Beauvale, and that William, even as a new prince, would remain the Viscount Melbourne. William had been unwilling to surrender Brocket Hall, a place most beloved to him, and it would become a royal residence held in Melbourne's private ownership.

"Frederick," Melbourne greeted his brother at the banquet with a polite nod of his head. Frederick looked very pleased then and said meaningfully,

"Your Royal Highness. Your Majesty." Frederick bowed low to Victoria, and she smiled politely back at him,

"Baron Beauvale. You will not find yourself in want of Brocket Hall?"

"It is my brother's, Ma'am," Frederick said. "How could I take him from his rooks?"

Victoria turned her eyes to Melbourne and told him firmly, "You will be with your rooks whenever you please."

There was more socialising, and a feast of genuinely delicious courses. Then the bride and groom were put into an open carriage and paraded through the streets, and it poured like mad. Victoria waved out the window at the cheering thousands as she quietly reminded Melbourne,

"You know, Lord M, I did want something small and simple. It was you who convinced me to make a great spectacle of all this."

"The people do so love a good spectacle, Ma'am," he teased from beside her. Victoria flashed him a quick look and said,

"You needn't call me that."

He tipped his head. "Feels wrong not to."

Victoria smiled serenely and waved again, catching the eye of a little child who was hopping up and down in the mud in excitement. She kept her smile on as she murmured,

"What if you get bored?"

"As the husband of Queen Victoria? Impossible." Melbourne reached for her left hand and squeezed her kid glove. There was a moment of silence, aside from the cries of joy outside the carriage, and then Melbourne said quietly, "I love you very much."

She grinned then, and the people seemed to sense the depth of her happiness. They cheered all the more enthusiastically, all the way until the carriage left the bustle of the city. For most of the rest of the ride to Windsor, Victoria leaned her head onto Melbourne's shoulder and held his hand. He sighed as they started to approach Windsor, and he said gently,

"There is something I should like to ask you."

Victoria raised her eyes to him, reading uncertainty in his emerald gaze, and she said shakily,

"What is it?"

He swallowed hard, tugging at the neck of his stiff red coat. He stared determinedly at the far side of the carriage, and he told Victoria in a quiet voice,

"You, as queen, are a very busy woman. Too busy, perhaps, for the immediate burden of being with child. Only you could say."

Victoria's heart started to race, and she whispered,

"I have been thinking of poor Princess Charlotte," Victoria said of the woman who would have been queen if not for childbirth killing her. Melbourne nodded once, and he told Victoria,

"The people would not begin to question the matter of your… fertility… until at least six months. Perhaps a year. You have time, should you want it."

"Are there ways?" Victoria asked carefully. "Are there ways of… preventing conception? Is it wrong?"

Melbourne turned his eyes to her at last and shook his head.

"I refuse to believe it wrong to grant you time. To grant us time. I can not believe such a thing would be wrong."

"But my duty is to provide heirs," Victoria reminded him, and Melbourne nodded.

"You are very young. There is nothing but time to be had. There is one way. It is not foolproof; nothing is, of course. But if I were to withdraw myself from you before finding my satisfaction, the likelihood of conception would be far, far lower."

"But you would have no satisfaction?" Victoria asked worriedly. Melbourne smirked and took her hand in his, dragging his thumb over the kid glove there.

"Victoria," he said seriously, "with you I shall find nothing but satisfaction. Finishing the act within or without is of no consequence if I know it helps to buy you happiness. Besides which, there are a good many ways for a husband and wife to know one another. Not everything involves me being inside you."

Victoria nodded knowingly. "When there was that spot on your breeches, had you found your satisfaction then?"

He laughed under his breath and nodded. "I confess to being a bit overwhelmed at that moment. Couldn't help myself. But there are ways… with hands and… mouths."

Victoria's eyebrows crept up, and she gave him a wry little smile. The carriage hit a small bump, and his hand tightened on hers as he whispered,

"I will show you what brings me pleasure, and I will learn the same of you, Ma'am."

"Oh, Lord M." She felt her face go warm, but she nodded firmly. "It will be between you and I, of course. This notion of deliberately avoiding conception."

"Of course," he agreed. "Such an idea must be entirely private. But know this. You are not a broodmare, Victoria. You are more than your womb. You are the queen of England."

Her eyes seared then as she found his. When the corner of his mouth jerked up, she nodded silently, and he raised her hand to his lips.

"We're nearly there," he whispered, and Victoria looked out the window to see Windsor Castle before them.

* * *

 

"Your Majesty, he will take good care of you." Lehzen leaned forward to kiss Victoria's forehead, and she insisted, "He cares so deeply for you. It is written in his eyes."

"So it is," Victoria agreed. "I am not afraid, Lehzen. I won't be needing you until the morning, and then I want you to knock. I likely will not be alone."

Lehzen smiled happily and nodded. She dipped into a curtsy and whispered,

"Goodnight, Ma'am."

"Goodnight."

Victoria watched her go and then hopped off the bed. She was too nervous to sit. She paced the bedchamber in her airy white nightgown, wondering if she should have kept her hair up. She had been carefully washed; she needed to be clean for her husband for their first night together. Had he bathed, she wondered? What an odd thing to contemplate, she thought then.

There was a knock on the door, and he did not wait for a response before pushing it open and coming inside. He looked almost supernaturally attractive in the candlelight, Victoria thought. He was in his fifties, she knew. He was so much older than her. But she thought he looked as handsome as any man had ever looked, standing there in his burgundy brocade robe over a nightshirt. He left his slippers by the door and approached Victoria, descending to one knee as she held out a shaking hand.

He took her palm in his fingers, seeming to note the tremble there, and he touched his lips to her skin before he murmured,

"My only goal is to make you happy."

"Consider your goal achieved, Lord M," Victoria said as he rose. He took her cheeks in his hands and bent to touch his lips to hers, just the lightest brush of rough skin on smooth. He inhaled deeply, breathing her in and holding it, and he informed her,

"It would seem as though anticipation is a fine aphrodisiac."

"What do you mean?" Victoria asked. He reached for her hand and pulled it between them, worming her fingers beneath his robe and brushing them over the protruding hard length. Victoria gasped a little and asked, "Does that mean that you want me?"

"Oh, yes," he nodded. "It means that I want you very badly indeed, Ma'am."

Victoria felt a surge of determined desire then, and she told him primly,

"I would like to look at it."

He gave her his little crooked smile that she loved so dearly, and he told her,

"It's ugly."

"I'd like to see for myself," Victoria insisted, and he threw up a brow.

"Yes, Ma'am." He pulled at the tie round his waist and shrugged his brocade robe onto the ground. He moved elegantly, like a dancer, as he pulled his nightshirt up and over his head. He let it fall with his robe, and then all of a sudden he was naked.

Victoria's eyes were round, she knew, and she was staring rudely. But she couldn't help taking him in - the way his shoulders and arms and chest were thin but toned, like the marble statues Victoria had seen. It was so masculine, the way his body was shaped, and it sent a warm throb straight between Victoria's legs. Her eyes trailed down his chest and stomach to where the rigid rod of his manhood jutted outward. Her cheeks went so hot that she thought they might combust, but still she stared.

It was like a snake made of stone, a thick and intimidating column of hardened flesh topped with a swollen, slick-looking knob. Victoria reached on instinct to wrap her fingers around the shaft of it, and Melbourne's chest started to heave more erratically. He put his hand over hers and brought her fingers to the tip, encouraging her to play with the slit and the bottom of it. She did, and he shut his eyes and whispered,

"Victoria…"

"You like it? Being touched here?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne nodded slowly. His eyes flicked around her form in the darkness, and he asked carefully,

"Would you take your nightgown off?"

She glanced down, feeling very self-conscious then. She wordlessly pulled her hand from his manhood and slipped off her nightgown, avoiding his eyes as she let it fall down with his clothing. She stood there for a moment, just staring at the ground and wondering if he found her hideous.

If he did, he certainly didn't make it plain. He cupped one of her small breasts in his hand and seemed to be feeling the little weight of it. He dragged his thumb over the nipple that had hardened, and he squeezed slowly until Victoria felt a shock of pleasure drive straight through her body. She reached for his member again, her thumb dancing around the tip just like he'd shown her to do.

"You are… so very beautiful," Melbourne informed her, and Victoria finally found his eyes.

"Is this all better done in the bed?"

He smiled a little and nodded.

"Easier lying down, Ma'am."

"All right, then." Victoria stepped away from him and strode quickly to the bed, climbing up and lying still on her back, staring at the ceiling. A moment later, Melbourne climbed up to join her, and he stroked at her hair a little, sensing her nervousness.

"It will feel much better if you're very ready," he said, and Victoria nodded crisply.

"I am very ready."

He breathed a little laugh and shook his head, his fingers going between her legs as he said meaningfully,

"Ready here, I mean, Ma'am."

"Oh." Victoria squirmed a little and finally said, "Forgive me, William. I find myself more anxious than I'd expected."

He tightened his jaw and asked in a whisper so low she barely heard,

"Will you let me get you ready?"

That question sent a flutter through Victoria's stomach for some reason, and she nodded as her fingers curled onto the blankets. Melbourne moved to hover above her, the tip of his cock grazing her stomach and making her shiver with want. He dragged it back and forth a few times, his own breath going a little rickety. Then he bent to kiss her, his lips and tongue very conservative at first. He was just touching her with his mouth, just pulling a little. Then the kiss deepened, and her tongue danced with his, curling and suckling. He dragged his teeth over her lower lip, and then without warning moved his mouth to her neck.

Victoria hissed and arched her back a little at the feel of his tongue dragging up to her ear from the place where her neck met her shoulder. He did it over and over again, and then he drove his tongue hard against the skin just beneath her ear. The flush of wet heat between Victoria's legs intensified, and she found herself wriggling against the yearning she suddenly felt.

Her hands flew up to hold Melbourne's shoulders, and she cried out rather loudly when she felt his fingers go between them. He massaged her with the pad of his middle finger, caressing every valley and fold of Victoria's most sacred body part. It felt good, so very good, and she started to kiss at his chest as he loomed over her. His skin was warm and softer than she'd have thought, and she had a sudden thought that he should be inside of her.

His hand kept up its ministrations between them, and his mouth found hers again, and then Victoria knew she couldn't stave off the climax that was barreling toward her even if she'd wanted to. Melbourne ripped his mouth from hers, apparently sensing the tightening of her body, and he said reassuringly,

"Fall into it, Victoria."

She did fall, as though she were careening through a pane of glass, and halfway through the immeasurable pleasure, she felt a sudden invasion and yelped.

"There. The worst bit's done." Melbourne arranged himself on his elbows and nodded, and Victoria realised he'd entered her whilst she'd found her own bliss. The pulsating gratification she'd felt had mostly masked the ripping, tearing feeling, which had been dull and distant. Now Victoria felt very full, like she were a bird roasted and stuffed. She shifted a little and gasped at the way it rubbed at her to do so.

Melbourne pulled his hips back a little and then pushed forward again, and Victoria wrenched her eyes shut against the sting. He did it again, then again and again, and suddenly a deep, heavy sense of happiness started to wash over her.

"Still hurting?" His voice seemed distant, but Victoria shook her head and insisted,

"It's good."

"Yes, it is," he huffed, rolling his hips a few more times. The sensation of being utterly filled and then having him leave her again was curious and magnificent. Victoria forced her eyes open, trying to see the green colour of her beloved Lord M's gaze in the darkness. She reached up and held his face as he moved, and she told him resolutely,

"There was never any choice but you. To the others, perhaps, there were options. To me, there was only Lord M."

That triggered something within him, apparently, and he pumped his hips a little faster, sending a new twinge of minor pain through Victoria's body. He yanked himself out of her then, sitting back on his haunches. He dragged his palm up and down his length, squeezing tightly and seeming to focus on his tip. Victoria watched in fascination at the way his member swelled and darkened, the way his chest moved with frantic breath, the way his head tipped back and his mouth fell open and a little growl kissed the air.

She tried not to gasp aloud when white creamy liquid leaped out from him, coming in spurts that landed messily across her breasts and up onto her neck. Melbourne groaned rather loudly then, frozen for a moment by his own pleasure, and then at last he lowered his eyes and whispered,

"It is positively obscene, the way you look just now."

"Will you fetch a wet rag?" Victoria asked simply, and he smiled crookedly and nodded. He dragged himself off the bed, and Victoria lay there covered in his essence. He'd protected her by making a mess on her, she knew. She was tender and sore between her legs, but it had felt good, so very good. Melbourne carefully wiped off every trace of the fluid from her, and as he bent to kiss her cheekbones, he promised her,

"It will be much better once you're used to it, Ma'am."

"How is that possible?" She scoffed at the idea that it could be more satisfying than it had been, and Melbourne's cheeky little smirk grew as he crossed the room to put the rag back on the wash stand.

"Would you like me to leave straight away?" He bent to pick up his robe and nightshirt from the ground, and Victoria sat up and frowned.

"I thought you might stay the night."

He looked very surprised, but at last he nodded and murmured,

"I would like that very much."

He released his hold on his clothing and strode naked toward the bed. Victoria slid sideways and wriggled under the blankets, and she said in a little wicked voice,

"I have never slept naked."

"I find the sheets feel better on bare flesh," Melbourne teased as he joined her beneath the heavy coverings. He lay on his back, and on instinct, Victoria curled up against him.

"I meet with Wellington in two days' time," she whispered. "It won't be the same as having you as my Prime Minister."

"You needn't ride out or dine privately with every Prime Minister you have, Ma'am," Melbourne said good-naturedly. He kissed at her forehead and promised her, "If Peel is ever Prime Minister, you can just sign things as quickly as you please and wish him a good day. I don't imagine he'd demand any more of you than that."

Victoria felt her face go serious, and she noted,

"You never demanded anything of me. You only gave. Even tonight. How are you so very good, Lord M?"

"I'm not," he insisted, but Victoria kissed his chest and noted,

"For me, you are very good. You are a good man."

There was silence for a while then, the kind of comfortable quiet they often enjoyed on horseback or on walks or in carriage rides. He just stroked at her hair, and she started to drift off on his chest. Just before she lost herself to sleep, she managed to say quietly,

"I love you very much, Lord M."

There was a little kiss on her hair then, and he replied in the gentlest voice she'd ever heard,

"And I love you, Ma'am."

**Author's Note: I really do believe that these two (as written on the show) would never have been able to give up the 'Lord M' and 'Ma'am.' :) So, the cutesy-sexy bit has happened, but now Victoria has to work with a Tory government under a Prime Minister who opposed her marriage. What now? I would be immensely grateful for any and all feedback. Love to all!**

 


	8. Chapter 8

Victoria awoke before Melbourne did. She was facing him, and he was on his back, his face serene in sleep. She just stared for a long moment, still a little disbelieving that he was actually her husband. When she'd gone to Brocket Hall to confess her love of him, she had only distantly dreamed that it might lead to anything like this. Now she found herself completely naked with him in her bed at Windsor, and she found that situation suited her quite nicely.

She couldn't help but study his arms more closely now that he was sleeping. For some reason, they were almost intolerably attractive. Not overlarge, and yet muscled in a profoundly masculine way, they cried out to be touched. But Victoria resisted, turning her attention to Melbourne's face.

She could read his age on him, now that she looked more closely. He behaved so youthfully, or at least did a fine job of masking the way he felt his age. Sometimes she forgot that he'd lived an entire life before she'd even been born. Did he view her as a child, she wondered? She did not view him as an old man. He was just her Lord M. Those years before her existence belonged to someone else, perhaps. To his other wife, Caroline, the one who had shattered him publicly and privately. Victoria would never break him like that. She promised herself and she promised Lord M, wordlessly sending her vow to him there in the bed.

She began to feel a dull ache between her legs, a tingling down her arms, and the peak of her nipples. Her body wanted him again. With every second that passed, the symptoms of her arousal grew more acute, and it did not help when she remembered the feel of him heavy above her the night before. Suddenly Victoria moved on instinct, doing what that ache within her commanded her to do. She peeled back the blankets and was surprised to see that his manhood was entirely erect. How was that possible, she wondered, when he was fast asleep? She felt hungrier than ever then, and some little voice told her to get atop him the way he'd mounted her.

She carefully swung her left leg around him, and she arranged herself just so upon his thighs. She snuggled her womanhood up against the hard shaft of his cock, and then Melbourne blinked his eyes open. At first, his face showed no expression, and he just whispered,

"Good morning, Ma'am."

"Good morning, Lord M. Is it usual to awaken like this?" Victoria asked, and he flicked his green eyes to the member that she had begun to stroke. He shifted a little and told her,

"More normal for younger men; doesn't happen to me often. There are crude terms for it."

"Like what?" Victoria grinned, but Melbourne shook his head and said,

"It doesn't matter what it's called, so long as it gets the job done, eh?"

"I felt I should be above you like this," Victoria confessed. "I am not sure why."

"Mmm," Melbourne hummed. "I am glad you felt that way."

He reached up toward her then, his hand stroking from her knee to her hip before trailing between their bodies. When his fingers touched at her nub, he looked shocked. Victoria knew why. She was already wet and swollen, and he'd be able to feel that. She nodded and whispered,

"I am very ready of my own accord, William."

He smiled so gently then that Victoria's heart ached. He put his hands on her hips and guided her upward, using one hand to carefully align them. Then he urged her to sink back down again, and she squeezed her eyes shut and whined a little.

"I do not wish to hurt you," she heard him say, but she shook her head desperately and began to move. She was still inexperienced, to say the least, and the invasion of his manhood was almost too much to bear. He filled her so completely that she felt utterly invaded, and yet, as she bobbed up and down a bit, the grinding against her front made her moan. She found a rhythm after some fumbling, and her own fingers played where he entered her. She liked to feel him sliding in and out, and every once in a while she rubbed at her most sensitive spot.

"Will you look at me?" Melbourne asked, and Victoria forced her eyes open to see that he'd propped himself up onto an elbow. He reached with his other hand to caress her - her arms and her rib cage and her breasts and her hips. His hand went everywhere, the dance of his fingers feeling like heaven on Victoria's sensitised flesh. She stared right into his eyes as everything began to grow tense within her, and she asked him,

"When will you teach me the other things?"

"Other things," he repeated breathlessly. "What other things?"

"Mouths, you said." Victoria felt her cheeks go hot with embarrassment, especially when Melbourne smirked devilishly at her. He nodded, squeezing almost roughly at her breast, and he promised.

"Soon, Ma'am. I'll show you all of it in time. I promise."

She should be jealous, Victoria thought. Knowing that he'd married Caroline for love, that he'd been physical with her, that he'd had affairs. She should be wretchedly overcome with jealousy. And she was, a little. Or, at least, she found herself repulsed by the thought of another woman doing this with her Lord M. But it didn't matter; those days were long gone for him, and she had every confidence in his fidelity. Any other man on Earth, she could have never trusted, but him. Him. She trusted him.

"It feels so good," she heard herself murmur, and she started moving faster, thrusting him more deeply inside of her body. Melbourne clutched at her hips and said suddenly,

"I've only a moment before I'll have to… oh, off, Victoria. Off, please!"

She climbed quickly off of him, terrified of conception now that she knew he would spare her the experience. She clambered away from him, kneeling beside him on the bed and feeling frustrated by the way she'd been so close herself. It seemed she'd escaped just in time; Melbourne's back arched and his hand tightened around his shaft, and he grunted a few times as his seed leapt out and landed in puddles all over his own stomach. He panted with his eyes wrenched shut, and he promised her,

"Sooner next time. I'm sorry. It felt too good."

Then he tipped his head toward her and looked very apologetic.

"I robbed you of your own release, didn't I, Ma'am."

"It doesn't matter," she insisted. "There will be other times. Let me fetch you a rag."

She stalked naked through the bedroom, going straight for the wash stand just like he'd done the night before. From behind her, he said carefully,

"Tonight, Ma'am."

"I beg your pardon?" She turned round with the rag in her hand, and she watched him gulp.

"You said there would be other times… how about tonight?" He smiled a little, and Victoria nodded contentedly. Tonight. He was hers now, and she was his, and she found she quite liked that arrangement.

* * *

 

Victoria's fingers bounced happily over the piano keys as she plucked out the sonata in A Major by Mozart. She glanced over to see Lord Melbourne - Prince William - on a divan not far away, sipping at a snifter of brandy and looking remarkably peaceful. This was their last night in Windsor before Victoria headed back into the fray. There was no time or space for a long honeymoon with the political ramifications of her marriage looming. She finished off the sonata, and when she found Melbourne's eyes again, he sipped and then told her,

"You play beautifully, Ma'am. I find myself wanting to request an all-night concert. But it is quite late; it we are to head back to London so extraordinarily early in the morning, you may wish to consider sleep."

"Always the niggling wisdom against my childish instincts, aren't you, Lord M?" She rose then and went to sit beside him, and he set down his brandy. She fiddled with the lace collar on her dress and confessed,

"I am terrified of meeting alone with the Duke of Wellington."

"Does he frighten you as badly as that?" Melbourne shook his head. "He's a beast of a personality, to be certain, but he wields no more authority than your previous Prime Minister."

"You, you mean," Victoria huffed a sigh and pointed out, "He resents the fact that his queen has married a Whig."

"But in return, she has placed the wives of Tories into powerful household positions, and she will be working amicably - yes, amicably - with a Tory Prime Minister. Really, there is nothing about which he could legitimately complain."

"When I approached you at Brocket Hall," Victoria said, "You told me there would be an awful scandal. Now you seem unconcerned. Why the sudden shift in opinion, Lord M?"

"Wishful thinking, perhaps," he admitted quietly. "My own Whig friends and allies will likely clamor at me, try to persuade me to influence you to speak up on matters on the Whig side of things."

"Well," Victoria said plainly, "If I were a politician, I think I would be a Whig."

"Do you? Well, you mustn't be of any party affiliation. You are the queen of England, Ma'am, and -"

"The Sovereign is impartial. I know. I think it best that I try to stay as far away from politics as possible for the time being," Victoria said, and Melbourne nodded, picking his brandy back up.

"I think that very wise."

"Will you come to the meeting?" She asked, and Melbourne's eyebrows flew up with surprise. He shook his head vehemently and insisted,

"N-no, Victoria. I can not be seen to be forcing your hand in signatures."

"You wouldn't be. You'd be my advisor, just like you've always been." She was confused by his apparent concern, and he shut his eyes as he took a very large sip of brandy.

"This, as it happens, is precisely what the Tories fear. That my status as your husband will make you biased."

"But I've always taken your advice very seriously indeed," Victoria protested, and Melbourne tipped his head.

"They didn't much like that, either," he reminded her. He shook his head again and said, "My days in public political discourse are finished forever. If you wish to hear my opinion on a matter, I will gladly provide it to you in private, but I urge you to frequently reject what I say."

Victoria frowned, trying to think of the right words to say then, but Melbourne told her softly,

"The general populace will gladly accept that their queen married for love to a member of the Peerage. In Parliament, my friends helped me get a title and an allowance. But if my enemies - and I do have them - think that a career Whig statesman is controlling the monarch's actions, there will be a terrible conflict. We must take every precaution, even going out of our way to thrust forth an illusion of indomitable impartiality."

Victoria nodded, feeling uneasy, and she said,

"I meet with Wellington tomorrow at ten, just like always. At eleven, I should like to ride out with you, and we will discuss the meeting. In private."

Melbourne's face softened, and he reached for Victoria's jaw to stroke a little. He quirked his mouth a bit and whispered,

"I'll be there, Ma'am."

**Author's Note: In the next chapter, we'll see Victoria meet with her new Prime Minister… and we all know she's a bit of a short fuse when someone doesn't just placate her, right? We'll also see her break down the meeting with the new government with the only person whose advice she's ever taken seriously. Things could get messy. Thanks as always for reading, and a HUGE thank you for any feedback!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Your Majesty… The Duke of Wellington, Ma'am."

"Yes. Thank you, Penge." Victoria rubbed her kid gloves rather anxiously on her woolen skirts and cleared her throat a bit as the elder statesman walked into the room. He descended to a knee with far more difficulty than Melbourne had always done, owing to his age and physical condition. Victoria shifted her weight as she held her hand out, and finally Wellington kissed the back of her glove. He rose, giving her what seemed like a cold little smile, and Victoria said formally,

"We are pleased indeed to be working with your new administration, Duke."

"What fine news that is, Ma'am," Wellington nodded. "I admit I was half expecting His Royal Highness to be in attendance for this meeting."

Victoria bristled, folding her hands before her and tipping her head a bit. "What a ridiculous suggestion. His Royal Highness is no longer a politician."

"Ah, but once a man has politics in his veins, it never truly leaves him," Wellington countered, and Victoria tipped her chin up as she said again firmly,

"The prince is out of politics, Duke, and you are in it. Shall we review the dispatches?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you." Wellington followed Victoria to her desk, and when she sat and pulled her gloves off, he opened her box and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"A letter of congratulations, Ma'am, on your marriage. This one is from President Van Buren in America. There are, of course, many more letters and gifts."

"We shall respond to each of them in kind, with the assistance of our secretary. Thank you." Victoria had determined that she would make use of the her privileged plural, the 'royal we' that put distance between her and even a celebrated figure like the Duke of Wellington. He might be a Peer and a war hero and the Prime Minister, but she was the queen. Victoria set aside the letter from the American President, and she pulled out the next item. It was the newspaper, folded carefully, and when Victoria opened it, she read the headline. God Bless Her Majesty's Marriage.

"Is it favourable?" She turned her face up to Wellington, who nodded once and seemed aggrieved as he admitted,

"Lord Melbourne is a popular man, and the people seem pleased that the marriage did not involve a foreigner. The general public is happy."

"That matters a great deal to me," Victoria said with a little nod.

"The Custory of Infants Act seems as though it will pass easily through Parliament, Ma'am," Wellington said, and Victoria nodded. Melbourne had filled her in on the bill when he'd been Prime Minister. The law would grant some custody over young children to divorced mothers.

"The law seems quite merciful. We hope it shall pass," said Victoria.

"The conflict over opium in China continues, Ma'am, and Parliament has authorised action by the Royal Navy. I shall update Your Majesty when I have any further information."

Victoria folded her hands on the desk and said, "We shall pray for our sailors, that they may return safely to their families. Is there anything else?"

"There is one more thing, Ma'am." Wellington seemed uneasy all of a sudden, and he pulled the last sheet of paper from the box. He handed it wordlessly to Victoria, and she looked up at him for a little moment before turning her eyes to the paper. It was a short letter with a great many signatures, and she demanded,

"What is the meaning of this?"

"It is a formal request, Majesty, by some Tory Parliamentarians who feel… nervous… about Her Majesty's marriage to their political foe."

Victoria tossed the paper down onto the desk and shot Wellington a death glare. He was standing too close, she thought suddenly, and she barked,

"Step away a bit from the desk, Duke."

He did, bowing a little, and Victoria hissed,

"We have made it perfectly clear that His Royal Highness has formally and permanently ended his political career. This letter indicates that its signatories have no faith in their monarch, that they do not trust us. Who is responsible for this letter?"

Wellington's cheeks reddened a little, and he said finally,

"Sir Robert Peel, Ma'am."

"Naturally." Victoria huffed out a sigh and reached for an empty sheet of paper. She scowled deeply as she dipped a pen into ink and wrote as neatly as she could manage,

_Her Majesty Queen Victoria remains now and forever entirely impartial to the political happenings of this nation's Parliament. No marriage or other influence could possibly induce bias within us against British statesmen of any persuasion. We trust that all Members of Parliament will continue their duties in the firm knowledge and faith of the queen's impartiality._

_Victoria R._

She blew on the letter to dry it and then folded it, pouring wax upon it and sealing it with her own personal seal. She handed the letter to the Duke of Wellington and instructed him,

"We should like this read aloud to the entire Parliament. Sir Robert Peel and his fellow Tories have nothing to fear, and neither do the Whigs or anyone else. Now, have we quite finished?"

"We have, Your Majesty. I shall read your letter later this afternoon when we gather in the House."

Victoria rose, and the Duke sighed as he admitted,

"Your Majesty is a powerful force in your own right. I confess to underestimating you on the basis of your age and gender, Ma'am. A grave error, it would seem."

"Quite so." Victoria wet her bottom lip and said lightly, "My husband speaks with great admiration of your storied military endeavours."

That was not true of course, but she was trying to be diplomatic. The Duke gave a knowing little smile; he was very aware that Lord Melbourne would never say anything about him resembling praise. Just the same, he murmured,

"I am grateful for any admiration His Royal Highness might bestow upon me. Until tomorrow, Ma'am."

"Goodbye," she nodded, watching the Duke give her a low, slow bow. He turned to go from the room, and Victoria called, "Penge!"

Penge stepped into the drawing room, his eyebrows up.

"Ma'am?"

"Send for my dressers. I am going to ride out."

* * *

 

Later that evening, Victoria sat in her copper bathtub, staring at the wall as Skerrett combed oil through her hair. Lehzen sat in a chair near the foot of the tub, and she said gently,

"You rode for a good long while today."

"My ladies slowed me down. Lord M and I were meant to ride together; we had much to discuss," Victoria said. "It was my first meeting with the Duke of Wellington."

"I'm sure he was impressed by you," Lehzen asserted, and Victoria smirked.

"He admitted that he underestimated me because I am a woman and because I am young."

A little noise came from behind Victoria, and she turned a little to see Skerrett's cheeks go pink.

"Pardon me, Ma'am," Skerrett said, turning her eyes back down to her comb.

"Have you something to say, Skerrett?" Victoria smiled, and Skerrett paused in her combing.

"It's just… it seems to me that men often think women can't do anything just because they're women. Or that being old makes you smart."

"And you disagree with these men," Victoria said. Skerrett smiled a little and flicked her eyes up to Lehzen.

"Yes, Ma'am," she said. "If the men only knew what we all endure for a few days every month, they'd never doubt us again!"

Lehzen choked out a laugh, and Victoria found herself grinning. She let Skerrett put her wet hair into a thick braid for the night, and she stripped off her wet chemise, replacing it with a clean, soft nightgown. She wished Lehzen a good evening and made her way into her bedchamber, realising this would be the first night she'd spent at Buckingham with Melbourne. She lay in her bed waiting for him, feeling anxious even though it had only been a scant few hours since she'd seen him.

He'd been absent at dinner because he had matters to attend to at Brocket Hall, but he should be back by now, Victoria thought. She blinked up at the ceiling and waited for what felt like an eternity. Finally there was a little knock on the door, and then Melbourne came in in his robe and nightshirt. Victoria turned her face to smile at him, refusing to rise and let him kiss her hand like he so often did. He bowed to her, though as her husband he didn't need to do so in private. She would always be his queen, his monarch, even if they were married.

"I am sorry for my absence today, and for my tardiness," Melbourne said. "I underestimated the pomp and circumstance involved in coming back here from Brocket."

"Ah." Victoria nodded and sat up slowly. "Well, I missed you, Lord M. Riding with my ladies is not remotely so fun as riding with you."

He smiled a little and pulled off his robe, hanging it beside the bed and climbing up onto the mattress. He took Victoria's face in his hands and kissed her lips carefully, saying,

"I just needed to sort matters out with the housekeeping staff at Brocket Hall, since I will be there so rarely now."

"Does that sadden you?" Victoria asked. "Knowing that you'll only rarely be at Brocket."

"No. I would much prefer to be here with you," he said. "Tell me… how was your meeting with Wellington?"

"Frustrating," Victoria admitted, pulling his hands from her face and studying his knuckles with great care. "There were congratulatory letters, and news about China and the bill for divorced mothers."

"Will that pass?" Melbourne asked in an anxious tone, and Victoria wondered why he cared so deeply about it. His throat bobbed a little, and he said, "I wrote it. The bill. Caroline Norton was once a good friend of mine, and I worked with her to write the bill."

Victoria's stomach sank a little, and suddenly the name registered in her head.

"Caroline Norton. Her husband sued you for being adulterous with her."

Melbourne let out a very long sigh, looking down at his hands and Victoria's, and he said, "The scandal was ridiculous, Victoria, but I never put a hand upon her. Not as a lover, nor to beat her as her husband did. Our friendship was demolished, of course, but I received her advice in writing the custody bill."

"It is going to pass," Victoria mumbled. She had to remind herself that Melbourne had never even met her before she became queen, and she raised her eyes to him, studying his handsome, uncertain face.

"You are my life now," he told her. "From now until the day I die, you are… you are everything."

Victoria's eyes seared and she leaned forward to kiss his sharp cheekbone. She stroked at his cheek and told him again,

"It will pass, your bill." She pulled back and gave him a very serious look and told him, "Sir Robert Peel wrote a letter, a letter that many signed, expressing concern about my impartiality and essentially demanding reassurance."

Melbourne scowled. "Who signed it?"

"I don't remember, I could get the letter again, I suppose," Victoria shrugged, and Melbourne shook his head.

"I'm certain I already know who would have put their pen to such a letter. What did you do about it?"

"I wrote him a letter in response, stating simply that no marriage or any other event could ever shake my impartiality. I was firm. Wellington ought to have read it in the House today."

"Well done, Ma'am," Melbourne nodded. Victoria looked him up and down and reminded him,

"You said you would teach me more."

He smirked a bit. "Only a few days into the marriage, and you're already clamoring for an advanced education. Not that I mind, of course. But I admit I quite like your curious mind."

Victoria pulled her heavy braid over her shoulder and played with it anxiously.

"You told me you would teach me about… about using mouths."

"Ma'am." Melbourne's cheeks coloured a little, and he crawled closer to her. He licked his lips and told her, "I can not bring myself to put myself in your mouth, but I can… I would be very glad indeed to demonstrate the complementary activity."

"I don't understand," Victoria admitted, and all manner of conjecture flooded her mind. Melbourne glanced toward the pillows and suggested,

"Perhaps if you would just lie down…"

Victoria did, hesitantly arranging herself back against the pillows and starting to pull up her nightgown. Melbourne carefully pushed her knees open a little and put himself between them, kneeling and rubbing at her thighs a bit.

"Relax," he whispered, and though Victoria tried, she was wound up like a spring. Melbourne leaned down and put his lips to hers, stroking her face and murmuring onto her mouth, "Try to relax, Ma'am."

"But I have no idea what is going to happen," Victoria said helplessly. Melbourne kissed her again and then put his lips beside her ear.

"I am going to worship you. That is what is going to happen."

She shivered at that, and suddenly her tensed muscles eased. Melbourne slid back down, kissing her breasts through her nightgown as he went. Then he paused and asked her,

"Will you take it off?"

Victoria slithered and pulled the nightgown up and off, putting it aside as Melbourne's eyes locked onto her chest. He flicked his eyes momentarily up to hers, looking for permission of some kind, and Victoria just nodded silently.

Melbourne reached with both his hands for her small breasts, and he started to slowly rub them in with gentle squeezing and circular pressure from his fingers. He teased at her nipples, rolling them between his forefingers and thumbs, and Victoria gasped. She felt as though her pulse had centred on her breasts, but she also felt a rush of wet heat between her legs. When Melbourne dipped his head and sucked one of her nipples between his lips, Victoria tipped her head back and whispered,

"Oh, Lord M."

He suckled harder, and she could feel his tongue grazing over her nipple inside his mouth. His other hand massaged her free breast, and suddenly Victoria found herself chanting,

"Lord M, Lord M… William… oh, Lord M, please. Please. Please."

"Please what?" He raised up his head, and Victoria shook her head desperately.

"I don't know."

He gave her his trademark crooked smile and pulled his lips down her flat stomach. Victoria was shocked when he continued downward, pushing her legs farther apart. He lay down between her legs and touched his lips to the inside of Victoria's thigh, making her shiver like mad. Then she cried out, a wordless plea fed by the sensation of his mouth clamping onto her womanhood.

She had no idea what he was doing. She could feel him suckling her nub and then dragging his tongue in long strokes around her folds. But all she could see when she looked down was his wavy dark hair, his head bobbing a little as his hands held fast to her knees.

"Oh, Lord M," she whispered, driving her head back against the pillows and shutting her eyes. She was bucking her hips against his mouth, but he didn't seem to mind. He kept his pace steady and firm, long strokes and sucking, and Victoria could feel the now-familiar peak approaching. She reached down impulsively and snared her fingers in his hair, and he groaned loudly against her. The vibration sent her over the edge, and Victoria moaned softly as her body clamped on his lips, as she rode the wave of warm pleasure.

As the feeling faded, Melbourne sat up and dragged his thumb over his pearlescent lip. Victoria was overwhelmed by the sight of him then, disheveled and pink-cheeked. It was almost too erotic to bear. She just nodded at him and whispered,

"Thank you, Lord M."

"It was my pleasure, Ma'am," he said, throwing up a brow. "I assure you."

He glanced down, and Victoria could see then that his nightshirt was tented by what appeared to be an insistent erection. Victoria felt her cheeks go even hotter than they'd been, and she asked him quietly,

"May I help you with that?"

"I… erm… I'll take care of it, Ma'am," Melbourne said softly. He pulled himself from the bed and stood by the wash table. He leaned on the table, and Victoria watched his back heave a little. She realised then that he was trying to make his arousal fade, and she frowned. She moved from the bed, her legs wobbly beneath her, and she made her way over to him.

"William," she said quietly, standing behind him. He just nodded and told her,

"It will go away on its own in a little time."

"Why won't you enjoy it?" Victoria demanded. Melbourne turned his face and gave her a smile that seemed almost shy.

"I am always making messes around you is all."

"I do not mind the messes," Victoria told him. "May I… may I touch you?"

"You must do whatever you please," he said, not for the first time, "but if you use your hand, I beg you to employ… erm… you know, I'll handle that, too."

He turned away then, and Victoria peered around him to see him spitting quite a bit of saliva into his palm. He pulled up his nightshirt with his left hand and put his right to his manhood.

"Friction," Victoria said knowingly, and he nodded as he turned back. He reached for Victoria's hand and pulled it to his cock, guiding her hand up and down and showing her how to glide her fingers around the tip. He finally let go, and Victoria kept up the motion. There was something awfully arousing about this, about touching him here, and she felt her own want rising up within her again.

She watched his face as his eyes squeezed shut, and she felt him twitch and go even harder beneath her fingers. Melbourne snatched at the wash table, grabbing a little towel from the surface, and he shoved it into Victoria's free hand. She held it beneath his length, pulling her hand along him and finding herself whispering,

"Finish for me, Lord M."

"Yes, Ma'am," he whispered. Then his face twisted as if he were in pain, and he whispered something unintelligible as his seed burst forth onto the towel. Victoria managed to catch it all, to dab at him, and after a very long moment, he told her,

"You ought to put that towel straight into the wash basin with water. It will seem then that it was used to clean up you, not me."

"Oh." Victoria suddenly loathed the fact that all of her laundry was subject to the close scrutiny of so many servants. She put the little towel into the basin and poured some water in, and then she turned to face her husband.

"Thank you for the education, Lord M," she said, giving him a smile crooked enough to rival his own.

"Did you like what you learned?" He crossed his arms over his chest, seeming quite large all of a sudden. Victoria nodded and closed the gap between them.

"I find myself sleepy now."

"As do I," nodded Melbourne. "Perhaps that means we ought to sleep."

"Will you hold me?" Victoria asked, and he put one hand on her cheek as he promised her,

"Every single time that you allow it, Victoria, I will hold you."

**Author's Note: Whew! So she's learning. ;) But the talk of heirs is sure to start soon; how will Victoria react to the rumours and whispers? And will Robert Peel have been appeased by her letter, or will the Tories continue to insist that the royalty's impartiality has been compromised? Lastly, now that Victoria is married to Lord M, will she finally get to dance with him all night? ;) As always, feedback is *greatly* appreciated. Thanks for reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

"Drina. I am surprised to see you so lively tonight," said the Duchess of Kent, and Victoria frowned as she sipped from her champagne.

"Why should I not be joyful, Mama?" Victoria demanded. "It is a Christmas party."

"Yes, but has your stomach been quite steady recently?" It was a pointed question, and finally Victoria understood. She set her champagne down on the tray of a passing servant, who bowed, and she said to her mother,

"There is absolutely nothing to report, Mama."

"That is too bad," the duchess said morosely. "Since it has been several months, I was thinking… perhaps…"

"I'm afraid you were mistaken to assume anything," Victoria snapped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there are people I'm meant to see tonight."

She strode away quickly, ignoring the way people bowed and curtsied as she passed through them. She could see that her husband was engaged in a deep conversation with the Duke of Wellington, and she was pleased to see that it appeared rather harmonious. Victoria eyed Sir Robert Peel, whose wife was speaking to another lady, and she walked right up to him.

"Your Majesty." Peel bowed low, and Victoria immediately said,

"I wonder, Sir Robert, if the rumours I hear are true."

"What rumours are those, Ma'am?" Peel asked tightly, and Victoria glanced over to where her husband was speaking with her Prime Minister.

"Some say that the Duke of Wellington finds himself far too old to serve as Prime Minister any longer, that he wishes to retire. Some say that the Tories would much prefer a government under you, Sir Robert."

"I wouldn't know, Ma'am," Peel lied, shrugging rather impudently. "You and I explored the idea of my serving as Prime Minister earlier this year. I do not recall it ending very amicably, Majesty."

He sipped from his wine, and Victoria scowled. He meant the so-called Bedchamber Crisis, of course. It was when Melbourne had resigned as Prime Minister. Wellington had turned down the post, insisting even then that he was too old. But Peel had felt - even long before Victoria's marriage to Melbourne - that she was far too closely aligned with the Whigs. He had agreed to form a government only if Victoria replaced members of her household. She tipped her head and told him now,

"Do you know, Sir Robert, as of late, I find myself surrounded by Tory women and one politically retired man. The vibration of the Whig party is notably absent from my household, Sir."

He nodded. "I would never push the Duke out, Ma'am, but if he steps aside and my party wills it, I will gladly serve this country as Prime Minister. I wonder if His Highness is discussing this matter even now."

He sipped his drink again, and suddenly Victoria thought that he was an inherently disrespectful man. She had come to a cool but workable rapport with Wellington. She thought that if Peel were Prime Minister, things might get acrimonious. But she swallowed hard and told him in the most polite voice she could muster,

"Well, Sir Robert, I do look forward to whatever may come. Should you and I be working more closely together, I would find it an honour indeed. Please do make yourself merry."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you kindly for the lovely party." Robert Peel bowed again, and Victoria nodded as she walked quickly away from him. She went over to where Melbourne was talking with Wellington, and at once both men bowed to her.

"Prime Minister, will you reassure me of the longevity of your tenure?" Victoria asked straight away. Wellington looked a little taken aback by the abrupt question, but Melbourne said in a genial tone,

"Your Majesty, the duke was just explaining to me how very weary he grows of politics. I can scarcely blame him; I have found my respite these last few months to have been most invigorating. Given his illustrious military and political service, he's earned some time of leisure, don't you think?"

Victoria took a shaky little breath and turned to Wellington.

"You mean to step down, and your party will install Sir Robert Peel in your place."

"With your blessing, Ma'am, that is the plan as of now," Wellington confirmed. Victoria shrugged.

"My opinion, good sir, on policies or politicians is utterly irrelevant. As the monarch of this nation, I will always maintain an amiable working relationship with the Prime Minister who is put in place. I only regret that Sir Robert was so adamant with his conditions last time around."

"But, of course, your household is far more favourable to him these days, Ma'am," Melbourne pointed out, "and you have, after all, relied so much less upon your ladies these last months."

He was right, of course. She didn't need two dozen women flitting around when she had her Lord M. There was meaning buried in his words, too. Her ladies were Tory plants, but her husband was a Whig. Her husband was the enemy of Robert Peel, and Peel would never be able to infiltrate that far. Victoria smiled a little at her husband and nodded. Then she turned to Wellington and told him,

"No matter what you decide, I wish you nothing but happiness and wellbeing."

Wellington bowed a little and said in a warmer voice than usual,

"Thank you very kindly, Ma'am."

"William, I wonder if you might pull yourself away from the Duke to dance with your wife a bit," Victoria said. Melbourne set down his glass of wine and extended his hand with a bow of his head.

"Majesty."

They walked to the place where other couples had gathered to dance, accompanied by a small orchestra playing a festive waltz. Victoria took Melbourne's hand in hers and felt his hand go between her shoulder blades. Her emerald green silk gown was off the shoulder, and so his hand pressed against her skin. She liked the feeling very much. In the first few months of their marriage, they had managed to avoid her conceiving, and indeed Victoria's bleeding had come predictably each month. Now as she swept into a dance with Melbourne, she whispered up to him,

"I am… no longer indisposed."

His eyebrows went up, and she wondered if he knew what she meant. Her bleeding had stopped the morning before, and she wanted him badly again. Melbourne murmured down to her,

"Well, Ma'am, it will be a very late night for us both, in that case."

Oh, yes, Victoria thought then. He knew what she meant. He flicked his eyes about and asked in a very low voice,

"No chance at all that you've conceived, then?"

"No." Victoria shook her head firmly. "My mother seemed rather desolate to learn that."

Part of Melbourne's mouth went up, and he said playfully,

"Perhaps they'll all say I'm too old for it."

"I happen to know you are not," Victoria replied. She just danced with him then, soaking in the feel of his hands on her, of the sight of him in his finery. She almost missed a step, but he quickly righted her, and she told him,

"You have always guided me so well, Lord M. In dance and in matters of state. So guide my dancing, and tell me. Will all be well under a Peel government?"

"Your mornings may be a little unpleasant, Ma'am, but Britannia will soldier on, and so will you," he replied. He pulled her a little closer, and he promised her, "I shall do my best to compensate for any unpleasantness you might experience."

"Why do you care so dearly for me, Lord M?" Victoria demanded, and his face twitched a little as he shook his head and admitted,

"I have no choice in the matter. I love you, Victoria, and there was never anything to do about that. I thought… there was a time when I had resigned myself to losing you. To letting you go, handing you over to someone else."

"You had resigned yourself to that?" Victoria asked, and he nodded and squared his jaw.

"There didn't seem to be any choice about that, either. It is astonishing, the way a heart can break so slowly and deeply and completely before tragedy even strikes the soul."

"It would have been a tragedy, my marrying someone like Albert?" Victoria tightened her hand on his shoulder, and Melbourne nodded seriously.

"For me, Ma'am, it would have been the most painful tragedy I would have endured in all my life, and I consider myself something of an expert on painful tragedies. Still, I would have borne it."

"For England's sake," Victoria nodded, but Melbourne shook his head.

"For your sake."

Victoria felt breathless then, lost in the gleam of his green eyes an the sad little smile that always seemed to dance on his lips. She fully intended on dancing with him more than once. Four or five times, even. She was the queen and he was her husband. She would dance with him all night if she wanted, and she did want that. Melbourne pulled his thumb over her gloved hand, and he tipped his head.

"The truth is that I have lived through the public scorn and the private pain of a marriage with an interloper. I have been the husband whose wife ran into another man's arms, and I knew I could never be that other set of arms, Victoria."

"But you aren't," Victoria protested. "You're the only one, Lord M."

His eyes shone a little differently then, and his thumb kept moving on her glove.

"It will be a late night," he said again.

**Author's Note: Raise your hand if Lord M's past breaks your heart! But don't worry… happy times are headed his way. Mwah haha… *rubs hands together* Thanks for reading - reviews are golden and treasured. :)**

 


	11. Chapter 11

"Your Majesty, the Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel."

"Thank you, Penge." Victoria's voice was sour today, she knew, but she couldn't care. When Robert Peel came ambling into her drawing room, she was shocked. There was mud all over his boots and up the bottoms of his breeches, and before he knelt to kiss her hand, he gestured down and said half-apologetically,

"I am sorry for my state, Majesty, but I had an early morning meeting and dashed over here on horseback."

"It is customary, Sir Robert, that the Prime Minister kneel to kiss the hand of the monarch, and that he wait until he has already been spoken to before speaking." Victoria's voice was like ice, and Peel's eyes shifted a little. He pursed his lips and nodded.

"Of course, Ma'am. Again, I apologise."

He dipped to a knee then, pressing his lips too firmly against the leather of Victoria's glove. She nearly wrenched her hand away, and as she stood, she said tightly,

"It would be appreciated if perhaps the next time you race here on horseback, Sir Robert, you might have someone take a rag to your boots. There is a decorum to be observed between you and I."

"Yes, Ma'am." Peel brought his hand up, and Victoria glanced to her desk. Peel gave her a smile that made him look like a toad, and he said, "Shall we?"

Victoria huffed out a breath as she sat at her desk. She never would have thought that she'd miss the Duke of Wellington, but here she was, missing him. She opened her box and pulled out the first sheet of paper.

"The leaders of the Newport Rising have been sentenced to drawing and quartering, Ma'am," Peel said simply, and Victoria looked up at him in horror.

"How barbaric."

"It is a traitor's death," Peel shrugged, "and they're nothing if not traitors."

Victoria read the notice again, and she set it down as she shook her head firmly. "Can there not be something more civilised? Hanging, even, would seem more dignified not only for the convicts, but for the nation."

"You could personally commute their sentence to transportation for life, Ma'am," Peel said, "Ship them off, you know. But I wouldn't advise that."

"Wouldn't you?" Victoria demanded, and Peel shook his head.

"Gives the idea that dangerous treason will be tolerated."

"We are not King Henry VIII, Sir Robert," Victoria snapped. "The sentences will be commuted."

"As you wish, Ma'am." Peel shrugged again. Victoria hated when he did that. The gesture was childish, almost drunken in its casual tone. She let out a breath through her nose and picked up the next paper.

"Settlers have arrived in New Zealand," she said, nodding down at the paper. "They mean to call the settlement Wellington. How very fitting. We shall draft a letter to them, wishing them well and promising them the love and fidelity of their queen even across such distance."

"That isn't necessary, Ma'am," Peel said, but Victoria seethed up at him,

"If we wish to write to our people and convey them goodwill, we shall. Sir Robert, I find you entirely too pushy."

"It seems I've quite a lot to apologise for today, Ma'am," Peel said, bowing his head. "I do promise to be less pushy."

Victoria pulled out the next paper, and Peel said,

"It will now cost one penny to post anything between any two places in the -"

"Yes, I can read. Thank you." Victoria scanned her eyes over the document outlining the new policy for posting in Great Britain. It would turn the postal service into a government operation, but it would also make posting items a more realistic endeavour for the average British citizen. Victoria reached for her pen and signed her approval of the law. She handed the paper up to Peel, who said,

"I did not actually require your signature for that one, but -"

"My, but you are unpleasant, aren't you?" Victoria said the words before she even thought them, and Peel's mouth dropped open in shock. Victoria would apologise; she couldn't and she wasn't sorry anyway. But she reached to take the paper back from his hands, and she put it in the pile of items to be filed by her secretary. She silently reached into the box for the final item, which was a copy of a newspaper.

"Page seven, Ma'am," Peel said, sounding irritated. Victoria thumbed through the paper to page seven, where she read in horror that there were oddsmakers collecting bets on when a royal conception would be announced. Victoria's stomach went sickly at the thought of ordinary people japing about and betting upon her marital life. Her eyes burned a little, and she folded the newspaper and set it aside.

"We shall send the letter to New Zealand promptly. If there is nothing else, Sir Robert…?"

"There is not, Ma'am," he said, his voice quiet and obviously angry. Victoria just nodded.

"Good day, Prime Minister."

He bowed a little and started to walk away without another word. Victoria watched him go, and as soon as he'd gone, she called,

"Penge."

He appeared in the doorway, bowing so low Victoria thought he might topple over.

"Send for His Royal Highness, if you please," Victoria said. A flash of concern went over Penge's eyes, but he nodded.

"Straight away, Ma'am."

* * *

 

"You told him _what_?"

Melbourne threw his hands up and shook his head wildly for so long that Victoria feared his brains would shake out.

"Do calm yourself," she snapped, but Melbourne scoffed in a thin voice,

"You told your Prime Minister he was unpleasant."

"Yes," Victoria said curtly.

"To his face," Melbourne added, and Victoria put her lips in a line. She stalked across the drawing room to Melbourne and glared up at him.

"He came in here with muddy boots and -"

"I am very certain that I appeared more than once with mud on my boots." Melbourne had interrupted her, and he had not apologised for it. His face was very stern as he said, "If your wish is that the Tories spend all their time speaking ill of you, saying that you are under the spell of a manipulative Whig, then, Victoria, it would seem your wish has been granted."

"But he was being unpleasant!" Victoria exclaimed. "He was entirely too familiar."

"Too familiar," Melbourne repeated in disbelief. He looked around the room as though a solution to the mess would materialise from the ether. "What was I if not familiar?"

"But you were my friend, and he is not," Victoria said petulantly. Melbourne rolled his eyes and tossed his hands up again.

"He is your Prime Minister, and he already despises everything about your personal life. Heaven save us from your lack of diplomacy, Ma'am."

"You are very angry with me," Victoria observed, her throat feeling a little tight all of a sudden. Melbourne shook his head and dragged his fingers through his wavy hair.

"I am frustrated," he insisted, "because as much as Robert Peel and I have loathed one another through the years, we have always managed to place personal enmity aside for the good of the country. I only ask that you do the same as queen."

"As queen, or as your wife?" Victoria asked quietly, and Melbourne met her eyes for a moment.

"As both," he said finally. He closed the gap between them and stared down into her eyes as he said in an awed voice, "How very young you still are."

"And what, precisely, do you mean in saying that?" Victoria recoiled from him a little, and Melbourne said bitterly,

"Only that you still have so very much to learn, Ma'am, and the learning curve is quite steep for someone already on the throne."

"Perhaps if my reign had not begun with a Prime Minister who catered to my every girlish whim. Perhaps if I had been better prepared by that first Prime Minister." She was being very mean now, she knew, but so was he, and Melbourne sounded more than a little wounded as he replied defensively,

"I did every single thing I could do to prepare you for a long reign in which you will be constantly battered by personal conflict, by wars, by political strife. I did everything I could, Victoria, but very often you refused to listen."

"And you think that you were always right, do you?" She glared up at him, but he shook his head calmly and put his hands on his hips.

"You should host Sir Robert Peel for dinner," he said. "Just you and him and me."

"And what good would that do?" Victoria demanded. Melbourne cocked up a brow.

"It will show him plainly that you simply do not like his person, but that there exists no political threat due to my influence over you."

"You are attempting to influence me right now!" Victoria cried, and finally Melbourne seized her face in his hands.

"Victoria!" The word came out in a growl, and she wanted to tell him that he hand no right holding onto her like this, no right yelling at her. But of course he was her husband, and of course he was probably right, so she just said in a shaking voice,

"Fine. He will come to dinner, and I… I will be more amiable in the future."

"Promise me, Ma'am," Melbourne said, and Victoria's eyes went wide. He continued, "Victoria, I need to know that I have not committed some grave sin in… in…"

"In marrying me," she finished for him. He shook his head in frustration, but she knew what he'd meant. He was worried that by stepping down as her Prime Minister and wedding her, he'd set her up for catastrophe. Victoria put her hands over his and nodded.

"I will do better, Lord M. I promise it."

He bent to kiss her then, and she was shocked by the force behind it. He was frustrated, she could tell. He pushed on her shoulders, which utterly shocked her, and soon enough she found herself being dragged over to the divan. Melbourne kissed her again so hard that it hurt, and she squealed against his lips in desperation. He silenced her by sucking hard on his tongue, and then he sat on the divan and yanked Victoria down with him.

"What are you doing?" Victoria demanded, for she'd been tossed roughly onto her back and he was hiking all her skirts up around her waist. He said nothing; he just unbuttoned his breeches with flying fingers and pulled himself out. He spat on his fingers and reached quickly into the open slit of Victoria's drawers. She gasped when he began to knife his fingers back and forth. He had never, ever been rough with her like this, and against Victoria's anger, her body responded too enthusiastically. She felt herself go wet beneath him, and then he crawled above her on the cramped little divan.

Her skirts mushroomed up about her, making it impossible to see what Melbourne was doing. She drove her head back against the hard side of the divan and knew poor Skerrett's work would be ruined.

"William, don't you dare finish inside of me," Victoria managed to snarl, and he just grunted as he thrust himself into her body. He set to conquering her straight away, his member filling her so violently that she reached up in desperation. Melbourne caught one of her hands in his, and he moved until his glimmering green eyes met hers.

"If I worry so much over all this," he said breathlessly, still thrashing his hips, "it is only because I know you have the potential to be among the greatest sovereigns this country has ever known. And because I… because I adore you, Victoria."

He yanked himself out of her before she could answer, and she saw him reach frantically into his coat and yank out a handkerchief. He groaned a little and tipped his head back, and Victoria knew that his frustration had been worked out.

Indeed, he seemed oddly calm as he tucked his soiled handkerchief back into his coat and buttoned himself up again. He stood from the divan and extended a hand to Victoria. She stood, trying to right her rumpled skirts as she whispered,

"I shall have an invitation sent straight away to Sir Robert."

"I will go see him personally to invite him, if you wish it, Ma'am," Melbourne said rather formally. Victoria nodded. He bowed to her, taking his time in doing so, and when he rose, he informed her,

"You will be the greatest of the queens. Greater even than Elizabeth. Good day, Ma'am."

"Good day, Lord M," Victoria replied, her chest pulling as she watched him go.

**Author's Note: If you're reading and enjoying this, I would be immensely grateful if you might take a quick moment to leave a little note. Thank you so very much.**


	12. Chapter 12

  
"Well, Your Highness. I've heard that your custody bill for divorced mothers is taking hold. Already six court cases where the law has been applied in the mother's favour."

Sir Robert Peel drank from his wine, and Victoria flicked her eyes across the table to Melbourne.

"That's splendid to hear," Melbourne said lightly. "I confess I've thought little of legislation for the past months."

"Is that so?" Peel knowingly smiled and took a bite of his lamb. Then he sipped his wine again and said, "I'll bet you miss it fiercely, though. Politics."

"You, as Prime Minister, ought to know that nobody misses that once they leave it, Sir Robert," Melbourne countered.

"I hear your second son is off to Cambridge," Victoria cut in, and Robert Peel looked to the head of the table. He bowed his head briefly and said,

"So he is, Ma'am. How very good of you to think of him."

"What are his intentions?" Victoria asked, and when Peel looked confused, she specified, "Does he wish to enter politics?"

"Oh. I'm sure he will, Ma'am. Rather unavoidable, being a son of mine. He's taken a remarkable interest in some of the new inventions cropping up. Steam engines and all that. Frederick used to spend hours with wooden blocks, building. He used to try and invent things out of household items. If he had it his way, I think he would go into industry."

Peel laughed a little, as though such a thing were a ridiculous suggestion, but Victoria smiled warmly and said,

"I hope he studies well, and that whatever he accomplishes is to his liking. You have many children, Sir Robert, do you not? Six of them?"

"Seven, Ma'am," Peel corrected. He smirked a little and said, "My poor wife, Julia. She often said that bearing the child was the woman's burden, but raising the child was the woman's joy. I didn't short her on either opportunity, I'm afraid."

"Quite so." Victoria laughed again and started to eat her lamb, listening vaguely to the quasi-political conversation between Peel and her husband. Then, suddenly, she set her knife and fork down and blurted,

"Sir Robert, I should like apologise."

Both Melbourne and Peel looked very confused, and Peel shook his head quickly.

"Whatever for, Ma'am?"

"I told you that you were unpleasant in our meeting. That was unkind of me, and moreover it was inappropriate. I do apologise for the insult, and I hope we might move forward amicably."

Peel's toadlike face softened a little, and he nodded slowly.

"Your Majesty, you spoke the truth. I am an unpleasant man. I shall do my very best to be more pleasant in your presence. And I look forward to our next meeting."

"I am glad to hear it," Victoria said, picking up her knife and fork again.

* * *

 

"That was very well done indeed," Melbourne said, walking slowly into Victoria's bedchamber and immediately untying his thick robe.

"The dinner?" Victoria asked from the bed. "Do you suppose I've mended the ill will?"

"I have never seen Sir Robert Peel in so fine a mood as when he left, Ma'am." Melbourne hung his robe up on the hook and crawled up into the bed with Victoria. He stayed sitting, and he seemed distracted by something, so she asked,

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I was too rough with you," he said, shaking his head a bit and staring at the wall. "In your drawing room, when we argued."

"Married people argue, William. And, anyway, you were right and I was wrong."

"That's entirely beside the point." He licked his lips and whispered, "I shoved you down, and I… it was undignified and best and cruel at worst. So I am sorry."

Victoria scoffed. "I am not angry."

"I lost control of myself," Melbourne continued, and Victoria asked curiously,

"You took your frustrations out upon my body, is that right?"

"Victoria." He shut his eyes and picked at the blankets, slithering down to lie on his back. He sighed a little and reminded her, "It is my birthday in a few weeks."

"I know," Victoria smiled. "There will a party."

"No, please." He gave her a very serious look then and said, "There is nothing to celebrate; I am an old man."

"You are not old!" Victoria protested vehemently, but Melbourne choked out a little laugh and said,

"The mathematics disagree with you, Ma'am."

Victoria quickly counted years in her head, realising he was not only older than she'd considered, but far older than he looked. There was still something youthful about him, even through the lines around his eyes and the tired expression that always cloaked him. Victoria swallowed hard and asked,

"How old were you when you married?"

"The first time, you mean," he mumbled. He sighed. "I was twenty-six. I'd served in the military before then, so… anyway, all of that was long before you were even born, Ma'am, and… I told you I was old."

Victoria dragged her fingers over his wavy hair, and she said gravely,

"I could die tomorrow."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why would you say such a thing? You won't. God save the Queen."

She scoffed. "I only mean that our relative ages are utterly irrelevant when mortality is guaranteed for all humans."

Melbourne huffed. "Please, may we speak of something more cheerful?"

"Well," Victoria said, shifting her weight a little, "I would, except… Lord M. The people are placing bets on when a pregnancy will be announced."

"Yes, I'd heard that," he nodded. "They place bets about all sorts of things."

"We can't keep going like this, can we?" Victoria whispered. "I know what's expected of me."

Melbourne's face shifted, and he seemed to be thinking hard for a long moment. Finally he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and promised her,

"Everything can be spaced out, Victoria. There's no need to have children one after the other, you know."

"All right." She nodded, and he reached up to drag his fingers through her hair.

"When did you last bleed?" His voice was blunt, and his question took Victoria by surprise, but she informed him,

"It's meant to begin again tomorrow. Perhaps the day after."

He shook his head. "It wouldn't happen today, then."

"No?" Victoria was confused.

"There is a rhythm to these things, Ma'am," he told her. "I can… complete the act within you, but… it wouldn't be today. A few weeks."

"Oh." Victoria pouted a little and glanced around his torso. "Right around your birthday, then."

"The birthday for which there will be no party?" He stroked her hair again, and Victoria shook her head firmly.

"There will be a very small ball, Lord M, because -"

"Please, no," he said again, but a smiled crossed his face. Victoria laughed a little and insisted,

"Because I do not care which birthday it is; you must be celebrated because I love you. I love you."

She bent down to kiss him then, her lips pressing delicately against his as she murmured one more time,

"I love you."

"You really were magnificent at dinner," he replied, tucking her hair behind her ear and staring right into her eyes. "You made fall for you all over again."

His hand started to go up Victoria's leg, but she whispered,

"I've cramping something terrible. Always happens the day before."

"Then I shall hold you," Melbourne said firmly, bringing her down beside him and kissing the spot beneath her ear. "I shall always hold you."

Victoria shut her eyes, breathing him in and trying to focus on the warm pleasantness of him. She tried not to imagine him withered and old whilst she was still a vibrant younger woman. She tried not to count his birthdays. Instead she counted his breaths, and to the sound of them, she fell asleep.

**Author's Note: If you've seen Season 2, Episode 3, then your heart has probably been broken over these two yet again. Hopefully this is a little bit of a balm. Please do take a moment to leave a review. Thank you!**


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh, for goodness' sake." Victoria felt her cheeks go hot with embarrassment as she pulled the soaking wet, cravat-style rag from her body. She'd tied it up with ribbon around her waist, just like she did every month, but for some reason, she was bleeding more this month than usual. Her cramping was atrocious, and she'd bled straight through four rags just today.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid it's soaked through your petticoats and is speckled on your skirts."

"Oh. Oh, I see. Well, let's strip it all off, then, Miss Skerrett, and we'll start over."

Victoria slithered out of her day dress and petticoats, and Skerrett fetched her fresh drawers and clothing. Victoria wiped blood off herself with wet cloths from a basin as Skerrett went into the wardrobe. She huffed out a breath and called,

"Miss Skerrett? If you could get my riding costume? The green one. I find that sometimes riding helps a little."

"Yes, Ma'am," Skerrett called.

An hour later, Victoria was being helped up onto her horse by Lord Melbourne, whom she'd convinced to come riding despite the frigid weather. She arranged her black cape around her, and as Melbourne quickly and elegantly mounted his horse, she told him,

"I appreciate you riding out despite the weather, Lord M."

He appeared to shiver a little as he smiled at her, and he urged his horse forward toward the gardens. After a while, once they were out of earshot of anyone else, Melbourne adjusted his hat and reminded Victoria,

"You asked to sleep alone last night. You are pale today. Ought I fetch your doctor, Ma'am?"

"No. Thank you." Victoria shifted in her side saddle and admitted, "I am exceedingly uncomfortable today. I thought riding might help."

He said nothing then, seeming to understand exactly what was ailing her. Victoria rode in frigid silence for a while before she murmured,

"A nice, warm fire will be in order when we go back, I think."

"I do not suppose the queen's mother would be elated to see her daughter riding out on a day like this," Melbourne teased. Victoria pulled her horse to a stop and studied Melbourne's reddened nose and patched cheeks. He was shivering, and so was Victoria. Melbourne just stared right back, his horse hesitant to stand still. Victoria glanced around the gardens, at the frost that had settled on twiggy trees and brown grass, and she sighed.

"It is too cold for riding, isn't it?" Victoria asked. Melbourne opened his mouth and shut it again, and finally he admitted,

"When they came and told me you wanted to ride out, I confess to a lack of enthusiasm, Ma'am."

"Yet you came anyway." Victoria's teeth chattered, and she grimaced as she felt a rush of unpleasantness between her legs. Melbourne gave her a sympathetic look and suggested,

"Perhaps an afternoon in bed, Victoria. No one would begrudge you that if you are so uncomfortable."

"I can not be seen as a weak monarch just because of the normal function of my sex," she snapped, and he tipped his head.

"I do not think anyone will whisper about you spending a few hours in bed on a very cold day."

"And will you sit with me, Lord M?" She sniffled, for her nose was starting to run in the cold air. "Will you sit in bed with me, even when I am in this condition?"

"Of course I will." He nodded and glanced back up to the palace. "It is indeed too cold for riding. Let us go back, shall we?"

* * *

 

"Enter."

Victoria pulled her velvet dressing gown more tightly about herself and shifted where she was reclining on the bed. The door opened, and Melbourne came walking in with a book in his hands.

"Oh, good," he said. "They've got the fire going already."

He was more dressed than she was; he'd merely kicked off his shoes at the door and now hung his coat up on the hook. He loosened his cravat and stalked to the bed, climbing up and sitting beside Victoria as he asked,

"They gave you something for the discomfort, I take it?"

"No. I'm fine." Victoria wondered at him then, at the way he showed so little unease or disgust with her when she was like this. Was this what a good husband did, where bad husbands exhibited distaste or revulsion? Victoria licked her lips and asked,

"What are you reading?"

"Oh. I brought _The Faerie Queene_. Spenser. It's about Queen Elizabeth."

"Is it? I've never read it," Victoria breathed. "Would you read it aloud?"

Melbourne's mouth twitched a little. He arranged himself more carefully and then patted his lap. Victoria was confused for a moment until she realised he meant for her to lie down there. She slowly lowered her head to his lap, amazed at the comfort she felt there. He opened the book with his right hand and cleared his throat a little as his left hand stroked Victoria's hair.

" _A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine, The cruel markes of many'a bloudy fielde."_

As Melbourne read, Victoria stared into the fireplace and breathed slowly, feeling the tension and pain of her monthly discomfort evaporate. With every word he said, she felt better, and as his hand stroked her hair, she fell completely under the spell of his care. She started to drift off to sleep, and finally she heard him murmur,

"Victoria?"

"Hmm." She rotated a little to stare up at him, and suddenly there was something very strange in his eyes. His throat bobbed visibly, and he set the book down as he told her,

"I love you. Very much."

"Lord M." She reached for his left hand and snared her fingers through his. Then she noticed something, a firm and insistent push beneath her head, and she realised he'd gone hard whilst reading. Victoria sat up slowly, and Melbourne whispered,

"I apologise."

"Will you take it out?" she asked flatly. He looked very surprised his eyebrows going up and his mouth falling open a little.

"You are not in any condition to -"

"You used your mouth on me," she reminded him, "and you promised you'd teach me how to do it for you."

"Victoria." Shock washed over Melbourne's face, and his breath audibly quickened. He shook his head. "I can't… it isn't proper that you would do that."

"Proper?" Victoria scoffed. "I am your wife, and this is our private bedchamber. Hell take propriety in here, William."

He shut his eyes and said desperately, "It tastes awful."

"The entire member?" Victoria asked in surprised, and he scoffed a nervous little laugh.

"No, the… the fluid. I have no experience from which to speak, of course, but I am made to understand it is intolerably bitter."

"I shall tolerate it," Victoria vowed, feeling a spike of determination go through her. She reached to unbutton Melbourne's breeches, and he sucked in breath hard. His fingers gripped the sheets all of a sudden, and he whispered quickly,

"No teeth. That's the most important bit. The tip feels the best. That's all there is to it, really."

Victoria stared at his cock as she pulled it out, admiring it, not for the first time. She shot him a meaningful look and read amazement in his green eyes as she bravely descended. She propped herself up with one arm and used the other hand to wrap around his shaft. Then she parted her lips and put her tongue beneath his tip, closing her mouth around him and being very careful not to graze him with her teeth.

"Ohhh," he sighed, his hands going straight back to Victoria's hair. She pushed her face further down his length, gagging a little when his tip hit the back of her throat. She dragged her tongue around him inside her mouth, and then she began to experiment. He quite liked when she pulled her tongue from base to tip, she found. He writhed when she suckled on the tip alone, and there was a place beneath it that made him groan loudly when she pulled it between her lips. His hands tightened painfully in her hair after a while, and he hissed,

"Last chance. I'm going to… to… ohhh…"

Victoria plunged down upon him as far as she could go, thinking that if he finished beyond her tongue, she wouldn't taste it. It still made her gag, the sensation of him coming into her throat, and she still tasted the metallic, salty bitterness. But she swallowed it, hoping it wasn't poisonous to do so, and she slowly pulled her face up and off of him.

"Oh, Victoria," Melbourne said, looking quite dizzy as she tucked him back into his breeches. He dragged his fingers through his hair and told her, "You did not have to do that."

"I enjoyed it," Victoria said honestly. "I like to do that to you, Lord M."

He snorted a little laugh and informed her, "Then you are in a blessed minority of women, Ma'am."

"Do most women not enjoy doing that?" She was genuinely curious, but she could read on his face that her youth was showing again. She cleared her throat and said, "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I love you, and you ought to keep reading The Faerie Queene to me."

She lay back down on his lap, settling in to stare at the fire and suddenly wishing she had a glass of water. Melbourne sighed as he picked his book back up, and his voice trembled as he read Spenser's verse. Victoria only half-listened. She was gazing into the flames on the other side of the room, wondering if this would be the last time she would have monthly bleeding. They were meant to try, to really try, this upcoming month for conception. The thought terrified Victoria, and she fleetingly wondered if they couldn't just touch one another and use their mouths forever. She was happy with him like this, just the two of them. She was not ready to be a mother. And yet, it seemed, she had little choice in the matter, just like she had little choice about anything else.

Except for him. She had chosen him, her Lord M, and no one had been able to stop her. She listened to the gentle hum of his voice, and she shut her eyes as she contemplated how awful life would have been if she'd had to give him up. Perhaps she could tolerate a pregnancy and childbirth, assuming she survived, if only because it was part of being his wife. So they would try, and perhaps someone would profit off their bet.

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**


	14. Chapter 14

"And that, Ma'am, is all I have for you this morning." Sir Robert Peel shut the box on Victoria's desk and made his way round to the other side to face her. "Today is His Royal Highness' birthday."

"So it is," Victoria nodded, and Peel said,

"Would you be so kind as to convey my best wishes to him, Ma'am?"

Victoria's eyebrows went up. "Will you not be at the ball this evening?"

Peel hesitated. "I have so very much to prepare for a real fight in Parliament tomorrow, and -"

"Yes. Of course that must take precedence over a silly party. Well, you shall be missed, Prime Minister," said Victoria. "Thank you, Sir Robert. Good day."

"Good day, Ma'am." Peel bowed and backed away, and Victoria sighed after he'd gone. She rose and left the room a few minutes after Peel, knowing she would find Melbourne in the library.

She was right; he was sitting in a chair facing away from her with a book when she came into the room. He must have been utterly engrossed, Victoria thought, because for a long moment, he didn't notice her. She watched him turn a page, and then she finally cleared her throat a little.

He whirled round as he stood, and as Victoria approached him, he descended to a knee and kissed her hand. It was so unnecessary, she thought, and yet she adored him for never abandoning the dynamic they'd had when they'd first met. She'd been utterly inexperienced, young and naive, and he'd been her only source of wisdom and friendship. She considered scolding him for his deference, but when he rose, he looked truly happy, and she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead she just smiled a little and said,

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you, Ma'am." He bowed his head and glanced to the book he'd left on the chair. It was a copy of Oliver Twist, signed by the author and bound in special, fine leather. Victoria had gifted it to Melbourne this morning, and now he told her,

"Mr Dickens certainly has a way with words."

"And with ideas?" Victoria prompted. Melbourne turned up part of his mouth and nodded.

"His work is nothing if not engrossing. Is it too late to convince you to call off this ball?

"Yes, it's entirely too late," Victoria scoffed. "Just enjoy yourself, Lord M. Birthdays come but once a year."

"Yes, but after enough years, they begin to feel like drudgery," he said. "Like a ticking clock. Someday you'll understand that."

His little smirk vanished then as he seemed to realise the condescension in what he'd said. Victoria shifted on her feet and folded her lace-gloved hands before her as she murmured,

"You fixate far too much on your age."

"It is difficult not to," he said gently, "at this point in my life."

"Do I make you feel so old as that?" Victoria demanded, and he shook his head calmly.

"No. Quite the opposite. It is when I am with you… riding out or dancing or reading or loving you… it is then that I feel young again, if only for a little while. Then something dreadful like a birthday comes along and reminds me."

"I will not tolerate this sort of morose self-pity on your birthday, Lord Melbourne," Victoria said primly, and his eyebrow went up as he said quietly,

"Prince William. You do not often say it, I know."

She blushed at the correction. His position as a viscount was irrelevant when he was the Prince Consort. Victoria stared at the ground for a moment, realising that much had shifted between them, and she said impulsively,

"I am in a fidgety mood, Lord M, because of what I am meant to do tonight. I am… I am… terrified."

He stepped up to her and shook his head. "There are no guarantees, and if you do not wish to take the risk, then I shall gladly sleep in my own rooms."

"On your birthday," she scoffed. "Hardly."

"I do not require relations just because it is my birthday," he said. He gave her a long, meaningful look then, and he whispered, "You seem very reticent about conceiving. Reticent enough that I wonder, Victoria, if you ought not give yourself my time."

Victoria's mouth fell open, and for a moment she just grappled helplessly at the air. Finally she said in a too-tearful voice,

"I will always be afraid of it. I shall never want it, I think. But it is something I must do. So we shall try."

"How very romantic," Melbourne said sarcastically. He reached for Victoria's gloved hand and touched his lips to her fingers. His eyes were serious as he told her, "I love you. And whatever decision you make on this matter, Ma'am… I am your loyal subject and your adoring husband."

She nodded. "I shall see you at the ball, then."

He nodded and curled his lips up a bit, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

* * *

 

Victoria drank too much, and she did it on purpose. If she was going to lose the last remaining scrap of freedom she had, she'd do it in a blaze of graceless intoxication.

She had two glasses of wine at dinner, which nobody seemed to notice since they were all caught up in their own conversations and meals. Melbourne noticed when Victoria requested a second glass, and he certainly noticed the way she drank it down with haste. He shot her a curious little look, and Victoria just shook her head. She rose from her chair, prompting everyone else to do the same, and a hush fell over the dining room. She waited until a third glass was poured for her, and she lifted it in her wobbling hand.

"Today," she said kindly, "We celebrate the birthday of a man who has served this country with distinction during war time, who has served his country as a statesman and Prime Minister, and who has quite earned himself the love of his monarch in every imaginable way. Prince William, Lord Melbourne… today we celebrate you, and we wish you so many more years of health and happiness. Happy birthday to His Royal Highness."

"To His Royal Highness!" Everyone raised their glasses and then drank, and Melbourne nodded his thanks with a humble little look on his face. They cut and served the cake then, and Victoria had both wine and champagne with the dessert. By the time dancing started, she was already more than a little tipsy, and as Melbourne led her out onto the dance floor, he warned her,

"It is not worth embarrassing yourself, Victoria."

"Embarrassing myself?" She shook her head, sending her heavy diamond crown shaking on her hair. Melbourne reached to fix it before it toppled straight to the ground, and he frowned down at her.

"You are anxious, and so you are sucking down wine as though you are dying of thirst. Please, Victoria. Do not give them a reason to speak badly of you."

"It may be your birthday, Lord M, but I am still my own woman. At least for now. If I want wine, I shall drink it." Victoria moved awkwardly in his arms, unable for some reason to settle into the beat of the dance. He guided her more firmly and begged her,

"No more. Please. For me."

When he said it like that, it made her stomach hurt, and she nodded. She danced with him in silence until the song was over, and then she danced with her cousin, Prince George, and then her Uncle Sussex. She even danced with the old Duke of Wellington, and finally she was able to make her way back to Melbourne.

"I saw you dancing with my mother," Victoria said accusingly. "Were you talking about me?"

He looked a little wounded and shook his head. "We were talking about your cousin, Ma'am."

"Which cousin? I have many." Victoria stared up into his eyes, knowing she was spiraling into cruelty and unable to rein herself back in. Melbourne moved patiently, expertly through the dance and sighed,

"Your cousin Albert. He is marrying Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg."

"Another Victoria. Another cousin. It seems we are very, very good at marrying our cousins," Victoria lamented. Melbourne smiled a bit cheekily and pointed out,

"I am not your cousin."

"No. You are not, thanks be to God." Victoria couldn't contemplate the idea of marrying Albert and leaving Melbourne behind forever. She sighed a little and said,

"I shall have to be sure to send them a wedding gift."

"That would be very kind," Melbourne nodded. The song ended, and Melbourne bowed. Victoria felt very woozy all of a sudden, as if she might faint, and she whispered,

"I think I should retire."

Melbourne looked entirely unsurprised. He took her hand in his and said,

"We shall have Emma Portman take you. And I'll be there as soon as this fizzles out."

* * *

 

"I have been ruining your birthday all day," Victoria said morosely as Melbourne came into her bedroom. He shook his head and hung up his robe, kicking off his slippers as he insisted,

"I told you, Ma'am, that my birthday was nothing to celebrate. Just the same, you ruined nothing."

"I drank because I am frightened," Victoria said, and as he climbed into the bed, Melbourne nodded.

"I know."

She slid down to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she mumbled,

"William, will you please try and be quick about it?"

His hand cupped her jaw, and he bent to touch his lips to hers. He nuzzled their noses against one another and assured her,

"We can just lie here. No one is making you do anything, Victoria."

She shook her head. "I have a duty, and so do you. So let us do our duty, my dear prince."

He let out a sad little sigh, reaching beneath the blankets to pull up the hem of her nightgown. His fingers touched at her entrance, which was dry and unwilling, and she saw a regretful look come over his face. She always wanted him; the moment they began to be physical, she always flushed wet. Had he ever even touched her when she wasn't wanting him, she wondered? She did not suppose so. Now his fingers moved uncertainly, his other hand wrapping around one of Victoria's breasts. She shut her eyes and repeated in her mind that his was her duty, that she had to do this.

Still, all she could hear were the phantom screams of a woman dying in childbirth. All she could see was the ugly, frog-like figure of a newborn who would consume her. She started to tremble where she lay, and she heard Melbourne admit,

"It doesn't work if I'm not firm, you understand."

She opened her eyes and stared at him then, and he shook his head a little. She glanced down, expecting to see the tent of his arousal like she always did. But even as he touched her womanhood and her breast, he was apparently flaccid. Victoria reached with shaking fingers to push up the bottom of his nightshirt, and he just kept shaking his head as she started to touch him.

"No," he mumbled. "You still have time, Victoria, to -"

"They're placing bets on heirs," she whispered, staring up at him as she massaged him. Nothing happened; he did not twitch beneath her touch or respond in any way. She finally cupped his soft cock in her hand and asked, "Do you not want me?"

"I hope you know that wanting or not wanting you has absolutely nothing to do with any of this," he replied. He bent down again, kissing her more firmly and brushing his thumb over her nipple. Victoria gasped at the feel of that, at the way he wet his hand and put it back between her legs.

Very much against her will, she started to go wet beneath his touch, and soon enough his hand was moving along slick, willing folds. Her body was consenting where her mind was screaming, and Victoria fought back tears as he played with her nub. She shook her head and whispered,

"I don't want to finish."

"All right." He moved quickly to perch above her, leaving his nightshirt on and pushing hers up a little as she put her legs on either side of his hips. He was hard now, she could see, whether from sheer determination or from touching her. It didn't matter why. What mattered was that he was able to push into her, to roll his hips with steady, gentle motions. He slid his hands up Victoria's thighs and held her hips, and he told her,

"It's not too late."

She realised then that it wasn't only her who feared childbirth. Melbourne would remember the death of Princess Charlotte, the way it had plunged the nation into mourning. He had seen his own wife give birth twice, once to a son with a dysfunctional brain and once to a daughter who had died before anyone could know her. Melbourne's eyes were suddenly glittering with what Victoria knew to be fear, and she knew why he was afraid. She was the queen of England, and a death in childbirth would rock the nation, of course. But she was also his wife, the woman he loved, and he did not want it for her. He did not want the discomfort of pregnancy, the risk of childbirth, the change that motherhood would bring. She was still young, and he knew it, and Victoria could read all that in his eyes.

"Stop," she whispered, and when he hesitated, she said again, "Stop. Please."

He slid out of her, breathlessly dragging his fingers through his hair. He huffed out a sigh and glanced down to his manhood, which was rapidly softening without release. Victoria shifted where she lay, making room for him beside her. He lay on his back and pulled her against him.

"You said there was a rhythm to these things," Victoria said, and he nodded once.

"Certain days where I should not be inside of you. I will withdraw regardless of the calendar."

"I have to provide an heir," Victoria reminded him, and suddenly Melbourne turned his face and rather glared.

"You were the niece of the previous king. Not his daughter. Lines of succession aren't always direct."

"I will have to bear a child eventually," Victoria said, and Melbourne kissed her forehead.

"I know," he said again, "but I will not to do it to you now. I can not. I physically can not, because I love you."

Victoria scoffed a little, and a stray tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek as she murmured,

"Happy birthday, Lord M, for what it's worth now."

He quirked up his mouth and nodded. "From you, Ma'am, it's still worth a fortune."

 

**Author's Note: We all know (both from the show and history) that Victoria loathed pregnancy, feared childbirth, and disliked newborns. Yet, she had nine children with Albert! What if her husband hadn't been so eager to push her into motherhood? That's a huge part of what this fic is exploring. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: This one goes out to the people who want "Lord M as teacher" taken to the extreme. Mwah haha.**

"You know, I hate to say such a thing and destroy both our appetites... but I find these sausages off." Victoria pushed her sausage far up to the top of her plate; one bite had made her feel ill with the awful taste. Melbourne frowned at her from where he sat further down the table. He flicked his eyes about the room and asked,

"Have many things been making you unwell as of late, Ma'am?"

She huffed a frustrated sigh. "Oh, why don't you taste them, then?"

He did, cutting into a sausage and bringing it up to his mouth. His lip immediately curled up in disgust, and he winced as he forced the bite down with a swig of water.

"Yes, you're very right," he said, waving over a few of the nervous-looking servants. They whisked the plates away, and Victoria heard Melbourne mumble,

"Perhaps just porridge and apples today."

"Yes, Your Highness." The servant with Melbourne's plate bowed a little and backed away, and then Victoria said firmly,

"My stomach has been quite ironclad, Lord M, though I appreciate your concern."

The Lord Chamberlain came into the room then, bowing quite low, and Victoria asked him curiously,

"What is it, sir?"

"Your Majesty, Sir Robert Peel sends word from the House that he is detained by the political snarl involved in laying out the government's agenda for the coming year. He regrets that he may not be able to attend his Audience until three or four in the afternoon."

Victoria scowled. "Very well."

The Lord Chamberlain bowed again and backed out, and Victoria tossed her napkin onto the table. She flew to her feet, and Melbourne joined her standing, but as she stormed from the dining room, he called rather loudly,

"They are bringing porridge, Ma'am."

"Hell take the porridge." Victoria seethed as she wormed her way through her quarters into her drawing room. Melbourne followed her, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"You're angry that Sir Robert Peel is delayed," he guessed, and when Victoria said nothing, Melbourne reminded her, "It is no small feat to prepare a year's agenda, and he has a great many opponents on nearly every point he is putting forward."

"Are you his friend now?" Victoria asked accusingly, and Melbourne shook his head.

"I am a former Prime Minister, Ma'am, and I can promise you that spring for the man in that position is a most dismal time of year. I'm quite sure he means no disrespect in being late today. I never did, and I was late more than once. Were you this heated whenever you had to wait for me?

There was something playful in his tone then, but Victoria just nodded.

"Yes, I was. I am not a patient woman."

"You are not, Ma'am," Melbourne agreed with a little smile. Victoria glanced around the room and shrugged.

"Teach me, then."

He looked confused. "Teach you what?"

"Teach me to be patient."

His eyebrows flicked up, and he said, "I think that is a trait that is in the blood, Ma'am. I'm not sure to what extent patience can be learnt."

"But I am an impatient queen," she conceded. "Impatient with my Prime Ministers, even when matters exceed their control. So… tell me. How may I be more patient?"

Melbourne pursed his lips, and then a wicked little smile slowly spread over him. He folded his hands behind his back and said,

"I shall make you patient, Victoria."

"How?" She took a step toward him, but he just said,

"Meet me back in this room at… oh, let us say noon."

"For what?" Victoria was genuinely curious now, but Melbourne just said,

"I suppose you will have to wait and see, Ma'am. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe there is porridge waiting in the dining room."

* * *

 

"You are late, Lord M," Victoria snapped. She'd been pacing for the last fifteen minutes. He was a quarter hour late to meet her, and she was fuming. But Melbourne just shut the door and shrugged a little.

"I lost track of time."

He would have usually apologised for something like this, and so Victoria realised at once that he was toying with her. He gestured to two divans facing one another, and he suggested,

"Why don't we sit?"

Victoria reluctantly made her way to one of the divans and sank down, her silk skirts falling neatly around her. She watched as Melbourne sat opposite her, and he just stared at her, his face as steady as a statue.

"What are we doing, Lord M?" Victoria demanded, but he held a finger up to his lips, wordlessly scolding her, and he turned his attention to stare out the window. Victoria felt her heart race with irritation. This was not patience; this was boredom. For a long minute, she just stared at her husband, at the man who had taught her how to be queen. She watched his green eyes follow a bird flying past the glass, and then finally he spoke.

"So often, the ability to set the pace is taken away from us. From all of us, even queens."

Victoria sat in angry silence, refusing to reply. She was shocked when she saw Melbourne's fingers go to the waist of his breeches, and she frowned in confusion as he unbuttoned them. He pulled his member out, and it was completely soft where it flopped onto his thigh. He let it lay there for a moment, stroking at his own thighs with his fingers in a way that made Victoria feel a sudden flutter in her belly.

He shut his eyes and did nothing but stroke his legs, and Victoria's eyes locked onto his cock. For what seemed like an eternity, she was staring at a soft and unmoving organ, but then something began to happen. Melbourne's chest started to move more deeply, though his breath was still slow. His cock twitched a little and started to go hard, one little bit at a time. It became swollen, and it reached skyward as Melbourne's hands moved on his thighs. Victoria felt a throbbing between her own thighs, and she shifted as she watched him go utterly rigid.

"What are you thinking about?" Her voice was a cracked little whisper, and Melbourne replied calmly,

"You."

That made Victoria dizzy, and she knitted her fingers together in her lap, wishing she did not have so many layers on. Then Melbourne reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a little glass phial. He opened his eyes and uncorked it, pouring a little into his palm. Oil. It was oil to keep himself slick, she knew. She watched in wonder as he wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft and began to stroke up and down, circling over his his swollen tip. Victoria could hardly stand it now, and she began contemplating just marching over to him and hiking her skirts up, shoving him into her open drawers.

It was maddening, the slow way he touched himself right there in front of her. His eyes locked onto hers, and his gaze smoldered in a way that made Victoria sear from the inside out. She wanted him so badly right now, so very badly that she tried to rub her legs together to assuage her arousal.

Melbourne's lips parted, and his steely resolve seemed to fall apart for a moment as he pushed his hips upward into his hand. A quiet little sound escaped him, a little desperate groan, and he tore his hand from his cock. Victoria was surprised; he'd seemed to close to finishing. But he just sat there, leaning back a little against the divan, his cock throbbing as he whispered,

"Sometimes it isn't very satisfying to be patient. Sometimes it is."

"What do you mean?" Victoria could hardly breathe. Melbourne said nothing, just shutting his eyes again. His hands tightened on the upholstery of the divan, and he seemed to be concentrating hard on something.

"What are you thinking about now?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne whispered,

"Still you, Ma'am."

His hand went back to his manhood, moving a little faster now. He was rewarding himself for waiting, Victoria could see. He calmly delved his left hand into his coat and pulled out a handkerchief, and then he leaned forward a little to aim himself at the cloth. He panted softly, his face twisting a little as he finished into the handkerchief, and she heard him whisper,

"Victoria…"

Her heart was about to pound its way straight out of her chest, she thought, and her breath had left her entirely. She ached so fiercely between her legs that she could feel the damp heat of her own want against her drawers. She watched with a mixture of awe and horror as Melbourne tucked his handkerchief and oil away and buttoned himself back into his breeches. He stood up and cleared his throat, and Victoria flew to her feet as she demanded,

"And what about me? What do you suppose it did to me, watching you like that?"

"I watched you for years," he teased her.

"You just tortured me!" Victoria complained, but Melbourne shook his head and insisted,

"I instructed you, Ma'am, just like you asked me to do." He cupped her jaw in his hand and pressed his lips to her cheekbone. "You will have to be patient, Victoria, but you will have your due. I shall see you at dinner; your Prime Minister will be here in just a few hours for you."

Victoria nodded as he strode from the room, and then she sank back onto the divan. Somehow, she thought, he always found a way to teach her a lesson.


	16. Chapter 16

  
That night, Victoria sat in her bed, staring at the fire and knowing he was keeping her waiting on purpose. He wasn't spending the night in his own rooms. He was torturing her. Victoria read for a while, but found herself unable to focus on the words in her book. She finally set it down and just stared, just waited. At last the door creaked open slowly, but Victoria did not turn her head.

"Good evening, Ma'am," Melbourne said, hanging his robe up on the hook he always used. She just nodded and pointed out,

"It is quite late, Lord M."

"Is it?" He glanced at the mantle clock. "I suppose I had not noticed the time."

He crawled up onto the bed then, and he bent to kiss Victoria's lips. She turned her face away, and he frowned a little. His throat bobbed, and he said,

"It was all just a game, Victoria. I never actually meant to make you cross."

"I'm not cross. I am patient." Victoria turned her face back to him and informed him, "My fingers work just as well as yours, you know. I can wait for quite some time if need be."

He smirked a little, lowering his eyes and saying in a beautifully low voice,

"Quick learner, aren't you?"

"Quite." Victoria reached for his shoulder, caressing him through the fabric of his nightshirt and squeezing a bit at his muscle. She met his eyes and suggested, "You know, I may want this bed to myself tonight."

"Are you evicting me?" Melbourne asked, and Victoria shrugged.

"On second thought, it won't take so very long. Not with the thoughts I've got in my head. Why don't you go stand in the corner?"

"In the corner, Ma'am?" Melbourne smiled now, shaking his head in disbelief. "Very well."

He slid off the bed and stalked over to the wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest. Victoria peeled the blankets back and hiked her nightgown up, parting her legs to expose herself to him. She shut her eyes and imagined him above her, imagined that her hands were his. She let her fingers drift down her belly, moving to the thatch between her legs, and she began to pulse her fingertips there. She opened her eyes and looked over to see Melbourne looking very hungry, his eyes glistening and his jaw squared.

"You are a patient man, Lord M," Victoria said, twisting her fingers into herself and arching her back a little. "Can you be patient now?"

"Yes," he whispered, and she could barely hear him. She rubbed at her nub with her thumb, wrenching her eyes shut and imagining his cock inside of her. For an eternity she touched herself, making circles and thrusting her fingers.

"Victoria," he said after awhile, but she ignored him entirely. The tension was building inside of her, winding up tightly and feeling like she was a string about to snap. His voice got closer, much closer. "Victoria."

"Yes?" Her own whisper was weak with desire, and when she opened her eyes to see him crawling atop her, she did not mind at all. She did not mind when he pushed himself into her body. She did not mind when he began to move. She did not mind one single bit when her body clamped around him at the zenith of her pleasure. She held his shoulders and he kissed her hard, his tongue so urgent that Victoria squealed.

She felt him pull himself out, felt the wet leak of his seed all over her stomach, and still he kissed her. She put her hands to his cheeks and kissed him back, feeling tension leak out of her even as she lay in the mess he'd made. Finally he pulled away from her mouth, and she nodded at him.

"You were right," she said. "It can be very satisfying to be patient."

* * *

 

It had only been six months since the queen's marriage, and already there were rumours. People were talking, and word got to Victoria. She was barren. The prince was impotent. She'd miscarried. All manner of misinformation made its way around England, and some of that came back to the queen. Just yesterday, Melbourne had taught her about patience, but Victoria wondered if it wouldn't be possible to pass on the virtue to the people of England.

She stood in one of the palace's many drawing rooms, staring out a window and wondering when the rain would stop. Melbourne had gone to Brocket Hall this morning, she knew, to see that all was well there. He was due back at any moment.

"Victoria?"

She turned round to see him standing with his hat in his gloved hand. He approached her and wordlessly handed over a damp sheet of paper. She frowned deeply; why did he not even greet her before shoving a document into her hand? Why did he not genuflect and kiss her hand like he'd always done? Victoria turned her eyes down to the page, and her stomach sank as she realised what it was.

It was a political cartoon, cut out of a newspaper. In the cartoon, a caricature of Victoria stood, her hair braided, wearing a dressing gown. Melbourne was in a chair before her, his legs spread open, his face looking ragged. The caption below the etching read,

_HM Victoria: Would it help the conception if I took off more clothing, M'Lord?_

_Prince Lamb: It would help if you might take thirty years off me, Ma'am._

Victoria nearly dropped the cartoon. Instead she crumpled it in her fist and tossed it at the wall.

"How dare they?" She exploded then, and Melbourne staggered back a step at the force of her outrage. She stomped her foot and demanded again, "How dare they? They can be arrested for this, can they not? For the dishonor, the indecency…"

"Victoria." Melbourne approached her and gently put his hand on her shoulders, but she did not steady. He shook his head and said calmly, "Like it or not, the people can mock you. And thank God for that ability. The Constitution makes it quite clear that -"

"Oh, Hell take the Constitution, then!" Victoria blurted, and Melbourne's mouth fell open in complete and utter shock. He glanced around as if trying to be sure that no one had heard, and he whispered,

"What an extraordinarily dangerous thing for a queen to say."

Victoria shook with anger, and she started to walk away from Melbourne as she said,

"I do not care what the Constitution says. I simply will not have my womb and its contents discussed by -"

"Victoria." Melbourne's voice was flinty behind her. "You are talking like a tyrant."

"A tyrant?" She whirled round and glared up at him. His eyes blazed, and he warned her,

"Do not go down that road, Victoria."

She slapped him then, very impulsively. She wasn't even sure what compelled her to do it. Her hand cracked so hard against his cheek that her palm and fingers burned. His cheek flushed red at once, and Melbourne was so alarmed that he took a few steps back.

"I'm sorry," Victoria whispered, but it was too late. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat and dabbed at his mouth, wiping away spittle from how hard she'd hit him. Victoria stared at her hand as if it were a loaded pistol, and she said again,

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"Ma'am." Melbourne bowed quite low, very formally, and then he backed away from her and left the room.

* * *

 

"Lehzen," Victoria said, standing in the doorway of her old companion's rooms, "I wonder if you might walk with me to His Royal Highness' chambers."

Lehzen frowned deeply and glanced up and down the corridor.

"He could be summoned to your rooms, Ma'am," Lehzen reminded her, but Victoria shook her head vehemently.

"I shall go to him. I do not wish to walk alone in this state of undress."

"Of course." Lehzen came out into the corridor, walking quietly with Victoria, who pulled her velvet robe more neatly about herself. Lehzen finally whispered,

"Is everything all right?"

"I hope so," Victoria said honestly. They reached Melbourne's rooms then. He only rarely used them for sleep; he mostly spent his nights with Victoria. But tonight he hadn't come, and she could scarcely blame him. Victoria nodded her thanks at Lehzen, who curtsied in her own nightclothes and turned to go. Victoria raised her fist to the heavy door and knocked carefully, but there was no answer.

For a horrible moment, she thought perhaps he'd abandoned her. Maybe he was off somewhere with another woman; maybe he was -

"Your Majesty." He'd opened the door, looking unsurprised to see her, and he gestured for her to come inside. She did, walking through his drawing room with him and through to the bedchamber. He shut the door, and Victoria immediately asked,

"Is your cheek quite all right?"

"No harm done to the cheek, I assure you." Melbourne smiled sadly and gestured to the wingback chairs before his fire. Victoria moved to sit, and he sat opposite her, drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair.

"If there is one thing I have learnt in my life, Victoria, it is that scandal and rumour burns ferociously whilst the iron is hot. But the attentions of the public are fickle indeed. They will soon tire of discussing your fertility. They will continue to have other concerns."

"I did not like the way they mocked you in that cartoon," Victoria said, stroking her braid and shaking her head. Melbourne scoffed a little and informed her bluntly,

"There was one where they drew me with no manhood at all."

"What?" Victoria narrowed her eyes, and Melbourne shrugged.

"During the scandal with… with Caroline. And Lord Byron. They drew me like that. I never imagined I would see the word 'cuckold' beside my name so very many times. But they moved on. They always move on. I do not mind it if they call me old."

"Why did you bring me the cartoon?" Victoria demanded, and Melbourne's mouth twitched.

"It is circulating widely. For some reason, it troubled me that Sir Robert Peel might have seen it and not you. You deserve to be aware of things, Victoria. Indeed, you have a responsibility to be aware of things."

"No one has ever treated me that way before," Victoria considered. "Everyone has always hidden everything from me."

"Nothing good comes of that," Melbourne insisted. "You mustn't let their drawings affect your decisions."

"You learned that, too, didn't you?" Victoria asked.

"The hard way," Melbourne confirmed.

"My poor Lord M," she mused, wanting very badly to put her arms around him. "Why has the world been so very cruel to you?"

"Perhaps I have earned it," Melbourne suggested, his face sorrowful. Victoria shook her head fiercely and whispered,

"No. You have earned nothing but kindness, and I intend to give it to you in spades henceforth."

He turned and glanced up at his bed. "Will you stay the night?"

"In here?" Victoria had never slept in his rooms before. She nodded, though, and she said again, "I am so sorry, Lord M. I will not be tyrannical."

"No," he said, rising and holding his hand out to her. "No. You will be magnificent."

**Author's Note: Oh, poor Lord M, having lived through so much mockery and derision! :( And I think we have all seen times where Victoria's volatility has had to be reined in! Hopefully these two and the public can move past the snickering, eh? This is my last update for the next 24 hours or so, so I'd greatly appreciate your feedback in the meantime. Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: I know, I know. I said I wasn't going to update again for a while. But hypergraphia is a cruel mistress! Thanks for dealing with my ridiculous updates. Feedback is always appreciated.**

"The grounds are so very lovely this time of the evening," Victoria said, casting her eyes around the park lane that ran from Brocket Hall. Melbourne smiled wistfully and nodded.

"I have always liked the look of the place at sunset," Melbourne said, "when everything is cast in gold. It looks better with you here, Ma'am."

Victoria felt her mouth curl up a little. She and her husband had come to Brocket Hall to get away from the drudgery of court life. They'd brought only a scant few servants each, and it was peaceful and quiet.

"The last three days have been heavenly, Lord M," Victoria mused. "I don't want to go back to Buckingham tomorrow."

"Can't stay forever," he said. He gestured toward the end of the lane, and his smile grew. "The rooks are coming in. This is always the hour when they come."

He looked genuinely happy then, and Victoria walked briskly with him toward the end of the lane. She was breathless by the time they sat upon a bench and stared up at the birds. They were stout black things that squawked incessantly, and frankly, Victoria had little interest in them. But Melbourne was staring up at them in fascination, and she was fascinated by him. So she watched his face, and he watched the birds.

"William," she said finally, and he turned his face in surprise. She so rarely used his first name. Victoria reached for his hand and dragged leather over leather, wishing they were both rid of their gloves. She met his eyes and said, "When I came here in cognito to confess myself to you, you very nearly said no. You very nearly turned me away."

"Well," Melbourne said softly, "that would have been a terrible mistake on my part, and I am glad I did not do so."

"I am glad for it, too," Victoria said firmly. Melbourne leaned down to kiss her, tipping his head a little to clear the brim of her bonnet. Victoria squeezed at his hand as his lips delicately touched hers, and she said again,

"I do not want to go back to Buckingham."

"You have probably already been too long at my humble little country house, Ma'am," Melbourne said, patting her hand gently. They sat there in silence a while, the sun dipping lower and lower on the horizon. When the sky started to go purplish-blue, Melbourne said,

"We've lingered too long. It will be black as pitch when we reach the house again."

"Unless we run," Victoria joked, and Melbourne shook his head.

"My running years are long behind me."

"No, they aren't," Victoria said, rising off the bench. She seized his hands and hauled him up to stand, and she said playfully, "Catch me, Lord M."

"Catch you?" He was incredulous as he watched Victoria dash off down the lane, her skirts balled up in her fists and her shoes thudding on the dirt. She laughed as she looked over her shoulder, for Melbourne was just standing there with his hands on his hips, grinning.

"You're no fun at all!" Victoria called, feeling out of breath as she turned to run away again. Then, very suddenly, her low heel caught on an unseen stone, and she tumbled hard to the ground. She caught herself on her hands and instantly felt the sting of rocks and dirt tearing her palms apart.

"Victoria!" Melbourne's voice sounded terrified, and then his boots were pattering so quickly on the dirt that Victoria thought he'd been lying about running. He seemed to be able to run just fine as he sprinted to her and bent to wrap his arms around her.

"Are you hurt?" He seemed to be frantically checking her over, but they were losing light fast.

"It was my damned heel; it… ahhh!" Victoria winced as she tried to move her right ankle.

"What is it? Melbourne demanded, his face looking worried in the fading twilight.

"My ankle… it's twisted or… oh, it's sprained or something of the sort. Lord M, help me up, will you?"

He did, wrapping one arm behind her back and heaving her up.

"Can you put weight upon it?" He still sounded very frightened, so Victoria put on a brave face as she shifted her weight. Then she cried out and nearly collapsed, and he caught her.

"That would be a no, then," he murmured, putting one arm under her knees and sweeping her up off the path. He cradled her in his arms and started walking back to the house, and Victoria tried not to cry from the pain as she insisted,

"It's too far. You should leave me here and go fetch some more -"

"Leave you here? In the dark, by yourself? Ha." Melbourne shook his head and walked resolutely onward.

"But it's too far, and I am too heavy," Victoria protested. Melbourne smirked down at her.

"You are grossly overestimating your own miniature size, Ma'am, and underestimating my strength. I'm not sure which is the worse."

"I am not miniature," Victoria grumbled, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and added, "Thank you for the help."

"We shall send for a doctor at once. You must be careful, Victoria; the queen's injured ankle will be front-page news."

"Perhaps if the people are concerned with my ankle," Victoria suggested, "they might forget about my womb."

"Perhaps." Melbourne was doing a good job masking the effort it took to carry even a small woman like Victoria all the way down the path. He sucked in long breaths through his nose, and his arms shook a little beneath her, but he managed to joke, "If you make a great show of going about in a wheelchair, they might forget about the very concept of conception."

"It was stupid of me to run," Victoria sighed, and Melbourne pursed his lips.

"Everyone wants to run. How were you to know you'd fall?"

By that time, they were approaching the house. At the sight of the Prince Consort approaching with the queen in his arms, guards came rushing forward and began asking what was going on. Melbourne seemed hesitant to hand Victoria over into the arms of strange men, so he said simply,

"See to it that a doctor is fetched straight away. Send Her Majesty's dresser to her room at once."

"Yes, Your Highness," said one of the men, bowing low to Victoria before scampering off. Inside the house, Melbourne carried Victoria up the grand staircase, and by then he seemed genuinely taxed from the effort of supporting her for so long.

"Your arms will fall off," Victoria said, feeling self-conscious, but Melbourne shook his head as they neared their bedroom. He mumbled his thanks to the maid who threw the door open for them, and he kicked it shut behind them. He set Victoria down on the bed and went to the wall to turn up the sconces. He moved efficiently then, looking out of breath and red-faced as he pulled her skirts up a little and rolled down her stocking. He pulled her shoe off, which made Victoria wince and hiss, and then he shook his head and tutted.

"It's already black and blue, and quite swollen," he said regretfully. "You landed on it wrong, I suppose. It happened to me once falling from a horse; I had to use crutches for weeks."

"Crutches," Victoria said hopefully. "Perhaps they shall allow me to use crutches."

"The queen of England? I think not." Melbourne threw his eyebrows up and shook his head. Soon enough, Miss Skerrett came and, with Melbourne's unembarrassed assistance, got Victoria out of her cumbersome clothing. They put her in a nightgown and robe, and Skerrett pulled the pins from Victoria's hair and brushed it.

"Thank you, Miss Skerrett," Victoria murmured, and the girl curtsied and said regretfully,

"I am so sorry about your ankle, Ma'am. I hope it feels better soon."

"Miss Skerrett, Her Majesty's condition is strictly confidential," Melbourne said very firmly, and Skerrett's eyes widened. She nodded and said,

"Of course, Your Highness. I won't speak a word."

"An official announcement will be made, I'm sure," Victoria huffed. "I'm surprised they don't make a daily announcement of the contents of my breakfast."

Skerrett smiled at that and curtsied again. "Goodnight, Ma'am. Be well."

Melbourne spent the next hour reading Shakespeare to Victoria to take her mind off of the throbbing pain until the doctor arrived. After a while, she felt tears start to leak from her eyes as the searing pain grew to be too much to bear. She tried desperately to listen to Melbourne read from _The Tempest._

" _You taught me language, and my profit on't is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language!_ Victoria, are you quite all right?"

"No," she said softly, swiping tears away from her eyes. Melbourne set his copy of _The Tempest_ down on his chair and walked quickly to the bed. He glanced at her ankle and shook his head again; it was indeed mottled purple and twice its normal size.

"The doctor ought to be here any moment," Melbourne promised her, "and I'm sure he will have some way to help you feel much improved."

That way, as it turned out, was laudanum.

The doctor who came from Hatfield diagnosed the queen with a severely sprained ankle that would require weeks of rest. The only solution for the swelling, he said, was to elevate the foot on pillows. The queen must not be moved for a week, he said.

"A week," Melbourne repeated worriedly. "We were meant to go back to Buckingham Palace tomorrow."

"I can not recommend strongly enough against that, Your Highness," said the doctor. He flicked his eyes to Victoria's ankle and shook his head. "Her Majesty can not be jostled around in a carriage until the swelling goes down."

"Her Majesty is right here and can hear you just fine," Victoria said, knowing she was snapping. She shifted in the bed, feeling immensely uncomfortable. The doctor bowed his head and said nervously,

"Of course, Ma'am. I have brought a bottle of laudanum for the pain. I recommend a small spoonful every few hours."

"Is it wise to dose the monarch with opium?" Melbourne hissed, and the doctor turned his eyes back to Victoria.

"It is perfectly normal that a person with a severe sprain like this would take laudanum. But of course, Ma'am, the decision is yours."

"I shall take it," Victoria said at once. "The pain is egregious."

"Yes, Ma'am." The doctor pulled out a brown bottle of laudanum and uncorked it, taking the little spoon from the side of the bottle and filling it with the liquid. Victoria drank the laudanum off the spoon, pulling a face and spluttering at its horrid bitter taste. Melbourne quickly reached for her glass of water. She nodded gratefully as she sipped from it, and she lay her head back on the pillow.

"Thank you, Doctor," she murmured, and the doctor bowed respectfully.

"Your Highness," he said to Melbourne, "I know Her Majesty's personal physician will be arriving shortly. Shall I stay on site for now?"

"Until he comes. Yes. Thank you. Good evening."

"Your Highness. Your Majesty." The doctor backed out of the room, and Victoria began to feel very woozy indeed. She shut her eyes and the room began to spin. She started to think of _The Tempest_ , which Melbourne had been reading to her. She thought of the beastly creature Caliban, of poor Miranda, of heartbroken Prospero. Suddenly she imagined that she was Miranda, leaving Prospero behind for a new life with a young man. But Prospero's face was her Lord M. It was all wrong. The island was England, and…

Things began to get cloudy inside Victoria's mind after that. She could hear Melbourne speaking with the Lord Chamberlain, but his words were coming from far away, from underwater.

"Here. Take this. It is an official announcement on Her Majesty's condition and request the prayers and consideration of her subjects. Send it to Buckingham Palace on the fastest horse we can muster. It should be in the newspapers tomorrow; this is not the sort of thing that should be discovered through rumours."

"Understood, Your Highness. It will get to London presently. Is there anything else you and Her Majesty require just now?"

"No. Thank you."

The door shut then, and there was a scraping sound on the ground, as if a chair was being pulled up beside the bed. That was probably exactly what was happening, Victoria thought. Sure enough, she blinked her eyes open and saw Melbourne sitting beside her. His face was grave and serious, and he thought aloud,

"If I'd caught you like you told me, just a moment sooner, would I have kept you from falling, I wonder?"

"You can not… always keep me from falling, Lord M," Victoria told him, and his mouth quirked up sadly.

"I can try, Ma'am."

She tried to answer him, but her eyes fell shut again, heavy and determined, and she lost herself to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

"Drina!" The Duchess of Kent swept into the bedroom, having been permitted to visit Brocket Hall after sending Victoria a pleading letter. Victoria smiled just a little as her mother sat in a chair beside her bed. She tutted and shook her head. "You poor creature."

"My only real consolation is that there are but two days until we can leave," Victoria said. She remembered telling Melbourne that she did not want to go back to Buckingham Palace, but after five days in bed staring at the wall like a fool, she was losing her sanity. The Duchess nodded and reached to stroke at her daughter's neatly braided hair.

"At least your dressers are keeping you dignified, even in your bedrest," the Duchess said. Victoria put her lips flat into a line and said,

"I have only been permitted to leave this room for one meal taken in the Grand Saloon and another time that I sat propped up in the library with Lord M reading to me." Victoria folded her hands over her lap and shook her head. "At least the newspapers have been focusing on my injury and not on whether or not I am with child."

The Duchess' face warped a little, and she dared to ask,

"There is no sign?"

Victoria scowled. "No, Mama. Not every woman is bursting with child a month after marriage."

"But it has been seven months," the Duchess pointed out. "Drina, I speak as your mother. Is there some sort of problem?"

Victoria scoffed. "If I do not have children just yet, what business is it of anyone else's? I am very young, Mama."

"But your husband is not," the Duchess said pointedly. "If you want that talk to go away for good, Drina, then get an heir in yourself."

"This is disgusting talk," Victoria protested, "and I shall have none of it. Did you come to console me on my injury, Mama, or to scold me for not reproducing quickly enough?"

"I came as your mother," the Duchess said. "That is all."

The bedroom door flung open then, and Melbourne came bursting inside. He was still in his riding attire; he'd gone out in the fine weather at Victoria's insistence. Now he paused and nodded politely to his mother-in-law.

"Duchess," he said tightly. "Pardon me; I did not know you'd arrived. I was out riding."

"Is it very beautiful outside today?" Victoria asked, and his face warmed. He nodded.

"It is. In fact, Ma'am, I've had them set up a chaise with pillows for your leg on the front lawn. I was thinking perhaps you might care to sit in the fresh air for awhile."

"How very kind of you," Victoria smiled.

"I shall send for men to carry you downstairs, Drina," the Duchess said, but Melbourne cut in,

"I can handle it just fine on my own, I think. Duchess, if you might just fetch her bonnet over there."

Victoria stared up at Melbourne as he scooped her up off the bed, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by him. He smelled like horses, but she didn't care. His forehead and cheeks were gleaming with perspiration from his ride, but she didn't care. He moved so easily down the Grand Staircase that Victoria felt her heart start to race, and halfway down the stairs, she whispered,

"I need you, Lord M."

He kept his eyes trained ahead, but his lips turned up a little. He knew what she'd meant. They'd scarcely put a hand on one another since she'd fallen; she was under strict orders to keep her leg unmoving. But now, as he set her down on the chaise helped arrange pillows about her, Victoria found herself starving for him. When he took her hand to kiss it, she was panting a bit, and the gleam in his eye told her he was just as hungry.

"Thank you," Victoria whispered, and he just nodded.

"Ma'am."

He paused then, glancing to the Duchess of Kent and then back to his wife, and he said softly,

"Mozart will be played in London when we return. Perhaps you might like a visit to opera, Ma'am."

Victoria grinned. She knew how he adored Mozart, how he loved the opera, but this was for her. This was to get her in public, to get her moving again after days of sullen solitude.

"Will you arrange for it?" she asked. "Will you have them set the plans so we might go?"

"Of course." Melbourne gazed down the park toward his greenhouses, and he murmured, "I think I might fetch some orchids. Have you a colour preference?"

"Whatever you think suits me," Victoria said, and Melbourne threw his eyebrows up.

"But if I brought you every orchid that suited you, Ma'am, I would have no orchids left."

"Purple ones, then," she said, and he nodded and bowed a bit.

"Your Highness." The Duchess of Kent acknowledged her son-in-law as he walked by, and then she was brought a wicker chair to sit beside Victoria. She adjusted her bonnet on her own head and watched Melbourne walk off to the greenhouses.

"He is charming to you," the Duchess admitted. "It is very clear that he adores you."

"We are in love," Victoria murmured, "and when two people are in love, there is nothing else of consequence."

* * *

 

"Has your ankle much improved, Ma'am?" Miss Skerrett pulled the last few pins from Victoria's hair and set them down upon the dressing table. Victoria smiled into the mirror and said gently,

"It has. Thank you. The swelling is all gone now, and I shall be just fine riding in the carriage tomorrow. I think we will all be glad for the increase in space back at Buckingham. As charming as I find Brocket Hall."

"It is a charming place, Ma'am," Skerrett agreed. She fingered through Victoria's wavy hair, pulling the braids out and giving Victoria a great deal of relief on her scalp. There was a knocking on the dressing room door, and Victoria frowned a little as she turned over her shoulder.

"It is only me, Ma'am." It was Melbourne's voice, and Victoria found herself grinning like a madwoman as she called,

"Come in."

He did, dressed in a waistcoat and sleeves and looking more than a little tired. He'd gone to London and back today, she knew; he'd been advising Sir Robert Peel on how to strike a compromise between the Tories and Whigs on a matter of great importance.

"How did it go?" Victoria asked simply, and Melbourne flashed her a little smile and said,

"Sir Robert and I have always been a bit acrimonious in Parliamentary business, Ma'am, but I helped him draft a new version of the bill that will pass in his favour."

Victoria nodded. "I appreciate you working to cool the tempers in the House."

"Miss Skerrett," Melbourne said gently, holding out his hand, "I can work a hairbrush, I think."

Victoria's eyes went wide, but she nodded at Skerrett, who handed over the wooden brush to Melbourne and dipped into a low curtsy. She backed from the dressing room and shut the door, and Melbourne came up behind Victoria. She was breathless as he took a section of her hair in his hand and brushed from the bottom up.

"You do know how to work a hairbrush," Victoria said in awe. Melbourne smirked and said,

"When I was a boy, I would sometimes comb my sister Emily's hair. It comforted her. She was younger than me, you see and she had the worst nightmares… she would wake up screaming. So then I would sit with her and comb her hair and tell her happy stories."

"William." Victoria soaked in the feel of the brush going over her hair, and she stared at him in the mirror. His face was very serious in the candlelight, and he mused,

"I do not miss politics, but I was glad to see a compromise happen."

"I am proud of you, Lord M," Victoria said. Then she put her hand over his and asked him, "Have you ever done anything selfish in your entire life?"

"Why, of course I have," he nodded. "I married you."

"That was not selfishness," she told him, but Melbourne pulled the brush carefully through her hair again and said,

"It feels selfish, because of how I adore you."

"William," she breathed again, shutting her eyes and letting him finish brushing her hair. It felt so good that she began to come alive, to feel her skin prickle beneath her nightgown. She was breathing quickly, she knew, and it only got worse when Melbourne bent all the way down to move her hair aside and touch his lips to her neck.

"I need you." She'd been saying that quite a lot lately, but she couldn't help herself. Melbourne set the brush down on the table before her, and his hand crept slowly beneath the neck of her nightgown. Victoria gasped at the feel of his fingers drifting over her breast, and she found his eyes in the mirror. His lips were parted just a little, and he whispered,

"Do you know, I thought on the day of your coronation that no woman had ever looked more beautiful. And then I thought the same thing the day you married me. And I think it now. I will think it, probably, every time I see you, Victoria."

"Lord M." She was short on words today, but he had many to compensate. Victoria pulled herself up to stand, turning around to face him. He put her cheeks in his hands and started to push her toward the wall. Victoria gasped when her back hit the wallpaper, and she said more desperately, "Lord M!"

"Victoria." He braced himself on the wall with his arms and bent again, his mouth clamping onto Victoria's neck. His tongue lathed deeply against her flesh, and Victoria cried out. She tried to ignore the aching in her lower abdomen, but finally she whispered,

"I'm bleeding."

"Oh, that's wonderful news," Melbourne whispered against her skin, and Victoria laughed a little. He pulled back and threw up his eyebrows. "What's so funny?"

"Us. We are funny," Victoria told him. When he looked a little confused, she pointed out, "We are standing here, you with me pressed to a wall, celebrating my monthly because we do not wish for children yet… and my ankle is positively wretched."

"Well, that bit isn't funny. I'd rather forgotten your ankle," Melbourne said. Then he shifted his weight a little and asked, "May I help you back to your bedchamber, Ma'am?"

"My ankle hurts, not my knees," Victoria said. Melbourne's eyebrows soared upward as she sank down, and her fingers shook as she worked at the buttons on his breeches. Melbourne shut his eyes and squeezed his hands together behind his back, and he said weakly,

"God help the way I desire you."

"I am your wife," she reminded him, pulling him from the fabric confines of his clothing and staring up at him. "You may desire me as much as you wish."

She wrapped her lips around him then, and Melbourne's knees actually seemed to give out a little as she suckled him into her mouth. His hands flew to the hair he'd just brushed for her, messing it up again, and his breath shook like mad. Victoria did her best to please him, drawing her tongue up from the bottom of his shaft to the tip and then sucking there. Everything began to tense up around his hips, and his fingers grasped desperately at her scalp. After a while of the sucking and licking, Victoria knew he was close - very close. She dragged his tip around her wet lips, feeling him go more solid in her hand than she'd thought possible. Melbourne's back arched where he stood, and he groaned helplessly as Victoria pulled back a few inches.

She watched him come, watched in land all over her chest and neck. She felt some get on her cheek, and she moaned a little. Melbourne sounded almost wounded as he bent over a little, and he stared at her speckled flesh. He shook his head and marveled,

"That an old man like might feel such pleasure from you, Ma'am, is a miracle indeed."

"William," Victoria murmured, reaching up to touch at the obscene little puddle on her chest, "My dearest Lord M. Will you go fetch a wet rag? Then you can help me to bed."

* * *

 

Author's Note: Whew! So, they have the opera coming up, and it looks like Melbourne is working behind the scenes in politics. He can't step away from it entirely, can he? And now that the Duchess of Kent is sticking her nose so far into Victoria's reproductive business, how long before whispers become shouts? Oh, and in the next chapter, Lord M is *definitely* going to be doing some more teaching. Mwah hahaha. Thanks as always for reading and for reviewing.


	19. Chapter 19

This was his favorite part. Victoria could tell by the way Melbourne had leaned forward in the box and was watching the Queen of the Night chirp out her impressive high notes. His green eyes fluttered around the stage, taking in the sets, the costume, the music.

Victoria reached her gloved hand to Melbourne, and he let it lay upon his thigh. He covered her hand with his and turned to smile a little at her, and Victoria felt her stomach flutter.

She applauded with the rest of them and then spent the rest of the second act staring at her husband. She could not help but wonder if he had ever known real joy. He had known so very much sorrow, more than she could fathom. He had lost his wife, first her heart and then her person. He'd had a daughter whom he'd never been able to even hold properly. He'd lost his son after a tumultuous, short life of grief and agony. He'd been dragged through the newspapers and dragged through court. He'd been attacked as a man by political foes. Did he feel happy with her, Victoria wondered? Did she finally give him some measure of joy?

By the time the opera ended, Victoria found herself very absent-minded indeed. It was all she could do to wave and smile at those gathered below her box, and then she was transferred into the wheelchair she still had to use for a few weeks. Her ankle was feeling better by the day, but the sprain had been bad enough that walking was still out of the question. Still, it was harrowing being carried down the opera house stairs in a chair. Melbourne insisted on being the one to help her into their carriage, thankfully.

"What did you think of the performance, Ma'am?" He pulled the carriage door shut himself and sat opposite her, folding his gloved hands in his lap. Victoria nodded.

"It was well done. One of my favourites. It seemed you quite enjoyed it, which pleased me to see."

He frowned at her. He could always tell when she was trying and failing to hide something. The carriage started off toward the palace, and he said gently,

"You were distracted. Something is troubling you."

"Your past," she nodded, and Melbourne's eyebrows went up a little. He stared out the window and stated,

"My past troubles me from time to time, too, Ma'am, but I do try not to let it intrude upon things that make me happy."

"Do I make you happy?" Victoria blurted, and Melbourne nodded slowly as he stared out the window.

"Oh, yes," he whispered. "You make me exceedingly happy, Victoria."

She was quite satisfied with that answer, so she tipped her head back against the wall of the carriage and stared again until they reached the palace.

* * *

 

"Drina. Thank you for seeing me." The Duchess of Kent swept into the room, giving Victoria a rather surly look. Her mother had been trying to see Victoria for days, but Victoria had stalled. Now Lehzen curtsied as she backed away; Victoria marveled at the idea of Lehzen escorting the Duchess through the palace halls.

"Please do sit, Mama," Victoria said, sinking into a chair and waiting for her mother to do the same. The Duchess picked at her lace gloves a little and said morosely,

"Drina, you have been avoiding me, I think."

"No," Victoria lied lightly, and she said no more than that. The Duchess gave her a serious look and said,

"I think you should meet with your doctor."

"Oh, but with the great ankle incident, Mama, I did hardly anything else except be seen by doctors." Victoria sniffed dismissively, and her mother barreled on,

"Perhaps they can see if something is wrong with you."

"Wrong with me?" Victoria exclaimed, and the Duchess said, far too calmly,

"He had two children before. Lord Melbourne."

"Prince William," Victoria corrected through her teeth. Then she shrugged. "He gave his first wife two children. What of it?"

"Then the problem must with your body, Drina."

"What problem?" Victoria demanded in a shrill tone. "There is no problem!"

"The people will only grow more impatient," the Duchess said, and finally Victoria seethed,

"I am doing it on purpose, Mama."

The Duchess' eyes went very wide as realisation came over her. She shook her head, sending her ringless flying, and she insisted,

"No. No, that can not be. You know better than that."

"Don't I?" Victoria shot a challenging glare across the drawing room. She rose slowly, forcing her mother by protocol to do the same, and she neatly clasped her hands in front of her waist. When she spoke then, she was stilted and formal as could be. "His Royal Highness and I have determined that there is no current, pressing need for children. I'm sure, having been a married woman yourself, Mama, that you can contemplate the means one might use to avoid conception. Thus far, it has worked brilliantly, and I am very pleased to report that I am neither pregnant nor clamoring for motherhood. I am the queen. I am a wife. And that is quite enough for now."

"Oh, Drina." The Duchess shook her head again, more slowly this time, and appeared to tremble a little where she stood. "How that awful man has misguided you."

"That man is my husband, and he is your Prince Consort," Victoria said. Then she gestured toward the door and said, "If there is nothing else, Mama, you have our permission to withdraw."

The Duchess looked scandalised, and then her eyes went wet and she promised,

"I shall pray for you, my child."

Victoria did not respond. She just watched her mother back slowly from the drawing room, and she decided she would pass some time playing with Dash.

* * *

 

"Good evening, Ma'am." Melbourne descended to a knee and kissed Victoria's hand, just as if he were among her countless subjects, and when he rose, she informed him,

"You needn't treat me like that."

"I mean to inflict no discomfort, I assure you." Melbourne frowned, reading the traces of tears in Victoria's eyes. 'What's the matter?"

"It's my mother," Victoria said quietly. "My horrid mother. She has asked me every time she has seen me… 'Are you pregnant yet, Drina?' 'When will there be a baby, Drina?'"

She'd imitated her mother's German accent, and Melbourne appeared to struggle not to laugh. But he also seemed to grasp how upset Victoria was by the situation, and he shrugged.

"Enough evasion should -"

"I told her." Victoria stared desperately up into Melbourne's eyes. He looked surprised for a moment, and opened his mouth as if to ask what Victoria meant. She took his hands in hers and whispered, "I told her it was on purpose. That we were deliberately trying not to have a child."

"Victoria." Melbourne shut his eyes, and his face went a little pale. "Your mother is not exactly known for discretion. Something like this could… could put the entire monarchy in crisis. If it was known that the queen - the married queen - was deliberately denying the country an heir for her own inclinations…"

"It doesn't matter what I want, does it?" Victoria had begun to cry then, to really cry, and Melbourne huffed a sigh.

"It matters to me, Ma'am, and it matters to you. But to Parliament, and to the people… no. It does not really matter what you want. If your mother speaks, this could become an extremely damaging scandal."

There was silence then, and Victoria flicked her eyes to the bed, her fingers toying with her nightgown a little. She swallowed hard, and she heard Melbourne say,

"I believe you know our only real option now."

"Yes," she whispered. Melbourne let out a long breath and asked,

"How is the timing?"

Her eyes burned. "The timing is ideal for what they want."

Melbourne took Victoria's hand in his and guided her toward the bed. They both climbed up, and Victoria reached to push his nightshirt up. Everything was mechanical then. The way he kissed her, the eternity it took for him to go hard beneath her hands, the way he used a spit-slicked hand to prepare her entrance. Everything was impersonal and distant, as if this were an arranged marriage between strangers.

"William," she hummed as he pushed into her, but all he did was bend to kiss her forehead. He pumped his hips slowly, steadily, and then gradually picked up his pace. It didn't feel good, not like it usually felt, and Victoria soon found herself lying there beneath him with tears silently streaming down her cheeks. The last time this had happened, she'd made him stop, and he had. She couldn't make him stop now.

She had to actually try. She'd released her own secret to her mother, which was as good as writing a letter about it directly to the newspapers. So Victoria lay beneath her beloved Lord M and let him jostle her against the mattress. His hands went to her wrists and pinned them lightly against the sheets, which almost felt good. Then after a moment, it genuinely did feel good, and Victoria whispered,

"Harder. Hold me harder."

Melbourne's eyes flashed, and he tightened his grip on Victoria's wrists. She gasped, thinking there might be bruises, but she adored the feeling of him pinning her.

"You enjoy it like that?" He cocked up an eyebrow, and when Victoria nodded, Melbourne yanked himself from her body and grabbed her little waist. Victoria yelped as he whirled her around and arranged her roughly onto her hands and knees. He thrust into her without warning, and Victoria cried out so loudly she was sure someone would hear. His hands went to her waist and held fast, and he began to piston his hips so quickly and deeply that Victoria was lost. She let her face fall to the pillow as she was driven back and forth, and she moaned helplessly against the fabric.

Suddenly his grip tightened and slid down to her hips, and then Victoria heard a cracked little sound of satisfaction from him. He twitched inside of her, throbbing as he pumped himself into her body for the very first time. She shut her eyes against the pillow and accepted what he'd already done, and she clenched her hands around the sheets.

Then she cried, hot angry tears that bled onto the pillow. She could see herself swollen with child, physically uncomfortable and repulsed by the very concept of a baby growing within her. She could see herself screaming her lungs out in childbirth, dying and going grey-faced when something went wrong. She could see her own funeral. She could see it all as she lay there with her Lord M petting her hair and kissing her cheek. He was telling her that it would be fine, that she would be fine, but Victoria shook her head and said roughly,

"I only wanted you, Lord M. Not the rest of it."

He sighed a little and reminded her, "Neither of us really have a choice, do we? And now you can tell her you tried."

"I will tell her nothing," Victoria moaned, but Melbourne touched his lips to her cheek again and murmured,

"You must tell her you are trying. And then, perhaps, we can stop trying again. If it doesn't work, you know. Because it is better - far better - that they think your body broken than your intentions corrupt."

"I need to get dressed," Victoria said suddenly, and when she sat up, she felt his seed leak between her legs. She shuddered and said again, "I need to dress; I need to go to the chapel."

"To the chapel?" Melbourne repeated, and Victoria nodded vigorously.

"If the Lord God has any mercy whatsoever upon me, then the timing will have been off. Or perhaps I might be broken in the way they say."

"Victoria," he said firmly, "You are a young woman, and I have had children before. If the calendar is correct, there is a good chance -"

"And that, dear prince, is precisely why I am going to pray." Victoria hauled herself from the bed, her legs shaking and her heart racing with dread and fear.

* * *

 

Author's Note: We saw in the show that Victoria was desperate not to become pregnant with Albert. We know historically that she was always miserable when pregnant, that she was terrified of childbirth, and that she mourned her life before children. She and Melbourne have spent months putting all this off, but how much longer can that go on? As always, thank you so much for your readership and PLEASE do review if you get a moment.


	20. Chapter 20

  
She was late.

Only three days late, but still. Victoria had begun to panic, and as she signed paper after paper from her box, her hand shook. She finally stared at one letter, at the way she'd written her name, and she realised it looked like she'd used her wrong hand. She set her pen down and sighed, shutting her eyes and sending up a prayer beseeching God to spare her.

"Your Majesty… Sir Robert Peel," said Penge.

Victoria just blinked as the door opened and Robert Peel came into her drawing room. She had to rise, to let him kiss her hand. She forced herself out of her chair and walked slowly to where Peel stood. He knelt down and kissed the hand Victoria held out reluctantly, and when he rose, he asked carefully,

"Are you quite all right, Majesty?"

"I am very well. Thank you, Sir Robert. Will you come sit? I still have much to do."

"Of course, Ma'am." Peel and Victoria had worked out a far more amicable relationship ever since Melbourne had inched his way into behind-the-scenes political influence. Victoria glanced up at Peel as she dipped her pen into her inkwell, and as she signed her name, she said,

"His Royal Highness says your bill on farm safety reform is going to pass safely. You must be pleased."

"Very pleased, Ma'am." Robert Peel shifted in his chair a little and said, "The draft written by His Royal Highness allowed me to obtain support from both parties, thus bolstering their support in me and passing an important law. I find myself grateful for his help, and I must say I never thought he and I would be working well together. If I may be frank."

Victoria smiled as she signed another paper. She signed two more, then, setting the stack aside, said,

"How very glad I am that the two of you no longer face one another as enemies, but as allies. He wishes nothing but the betterment of this country, and I know you wish the same."

"Yes, Ma'am. And, actually, that's why I've come today."

Victoria set her pen down in its holder and neatened her stacks of papers. She waited, and finally Peel said,

"Ma'am, the majority of this nation lives well outside of London. So many of our countrymen are rural, you see, and nearly all of them lack the opportunity to ever see their queen in person. All they get are reports in the newspaper. But they do talk fondly of you, and of His Royal Highness. If I might be so bold as to suggest it, Ma'am, I think the monarchy, which has been battered these last decades, might benefit enormously from the people laying eyes on their queen."

"A tour," Victoria nodded, "through villages and countryside."

"Yes, Ma'am," Peel confirmed. He stared expectantly at Victoria, and she contemplated the idea of giving little speeches in little towns to the sort of people about whom Dickens wrote. She smiled a bit to herself and nodded.

"Yes, Sir Robert. I think it a fine idea. I wonder if you and Prince William might work together to form an itinerary. Both of you are far better traveled than I am, and I know nothing of traveling round the country. I'm sure the both of you could manage to make a list of strategic locations to visit. Then I will set about the task of writing speeches."

"Yes, Ma'am. I shall speak with His Royal Highness later today about it, with your permission."

"This is a fine idea, Sir Robert," Victoria said. She stood from her chair, feeling far more chipper than she'd been before, and she guided Peel over to the door. She smiled at him again and said, "I wish you a very good day."

"And to you, Ma'am," Peel said. He backed out of the drawing room, and Victoria made her way to the window. She stared down at the gardens and imagined open, sweeping farms dotted with little stone cottages. She imagined the sea, raging and grey, and the cliffs that fell down to it. She had been so sheltered, so hidden early in her life, and as a consequence had seen so very little of the country she now ruled. Robert Peel, for all his faults, was right. She and Melbourne ought to tour, to show the people that she was more than fodder for rumours, that they mattered to her.

Victoria pressed her hand to the glass and shut her eyes, breathing in deeply as she contemplated the idea that she still might be with child. Three days late. It could be nothing. It could be everything. She pressed her other hand against her lower abdomen and wondered if there was already something there. The thought made her eyes sear, and she yanked her hand away.

* * *

 

' _Your Majesty, try and breathe. You must keep breathing.'_

_'Get the prince. He needs to come now.'_

_'Lehzen…' Victoria was staring at the ceiling, every sensation leaking out of her at once. The pain faded, and then sound, and soon Victoria couldn't move. She was just lying there, still and quiet, as everyone moved around her. They were shouting, she could tell. Panicking._

_Then Lord M was there, her beloved Lord M. He was holding her face and saying something Victoria couldn't hear. There were tears in his normally strong eyes, and he kissed her hard on the lips and said something again. Victoria wanted to tell him she'd be fine, that it would pass, but she could not speak._

_'She is dying,' said a voice, not inside in the room. 'She is dying.'_

_No, Victoria thought. I will not die. I will reign for years and years._

_But the voice kept on whispering that she was dying, and the people in the room kept running around like scattering rats. Victoria could feel that the life within her was gone. Somehow she knew. The baby, the one she had dreaded so ferociously, was gone. She could see it in Lord M's face, too. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, and he touched his shaking lips to Victoria's cheek. She could hear him, the way he whispered into her ear,_

_'Don't go, Ma'am.'_

"Victoria! Victoria, wake up. Please."

She jolted awake, only then realising that she was sobbing like a child. She clutched at Melbourne's nightshirt as they both sat up, and he threaded his fingers through her hair as he held her face and said more gently,

"Try and calm yourself. It was only a nightmare."

"I died," Victoria gasped, her stomach aching terribly all of a sudden. She tightened her hands on him and said in a hysterical voice, "I am going to die, Lord M. I can not do this. I will die, just like poor Princess Charlotte died. I am…"

She stopped then, for there was a sensation between her legs of wet heat. She was anything but aroused, so she frowned deeply and reached her hand beneath the blankets.

"I know you are afraid," Melbourne was saying, "but it would be…"

His voice trailed into nothing as Victoria's eyes went wide. She'd put her fingers up her nightgown, and now she could feel they were drenched. She brought her hand out from under the blankets and stared.

Blood.

It looked black in the moonlight, but it was very obviously blood. All over her fingers, warm and slick, the evidence of emptiness inside her.

She laughed. Just a little chuckle at first, and then a gleeful, maniacal laugh that came from her head and her heart and her belly. She bent at the waist and gasped for air and whispered,

"Thank you, most merciful Lord Jesus Christ. Thank you. Thank you."

Then, very suddenly, her laughter shifted, and tears started to stream from her eyes. She was still shaking, but now she couldn't place why. She was relieved, to be certain. She had been so paralysed by fear these last days that she could barely function. Somehow, her dear Lord M did not seem to require an explanation. He just wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead and whispered,

"I shall send for help; we'll get you cleaned up and you'll come sleep in my rooms for tonight. They can strip the bed."

"I love you, Lord M," Victoria blurted, raising her eyes to him. He looked unmistakably sad then, and as he nodded, she realised he'd probably at least gotten used to the idea of her being with child. But he kissed her forehead again and murmured,

"What an immeasurable relief it is. Let me go get help."

She watched him pull himself from bed and wrap his robe around himself, and he made his way into the corridor. Victoria peeled the blankets back and saw that there was blood all over the sheets, all over her nightgown, and she laughed again. But then she remembered the way Melbourne's eyes had been, the way the uptick of his lips hadn't reached his comforting gaze, and she wondered. Had he actually wanted her to conceive?

She stared at the door, knowing that soon enough they'd be spending hours upon hours in carriages, in country estates, and she knew she would have to ask him. Whatever her own opinion was on the matter, his was significant, too.

Still, her bloodied hand began to shake a little, and Victoria shut her eyes as she wished she could have some guarantee that everything would work out fine, that she would go back to a happily married life with Lord M after a child. If she could only have that assurance, she thought, perhaps she could bear it.

For now, she was glad for the blood.

**Author's Note: So, he had sad eyes. Does that mean something/anything/everything? And what about this tour through the countryside? I'm looking forward to writing that… and alone time in the carriage. Mwah hahaha. Thanks as always for reading, and a huge thanks for any feedback.**

 


	21. Chapter 21

"Will I quite like Melbourne Hall?" Victoria asked, and as the carriage jostled, Melbourne shrugged a little.

"It is, confessedly, nothing special, Ma'am." He glanced out the window at the countryside they were passing. "The people of Melbourne will be very glad to see you, I think. They are a simple, hard-working folk."

"Framework knitting and the manufacture of footwear," Victoria nodded. Then she recited, _"I am delighted to hear of the fruits of labour that come from this fine place. Truly, the weavers and shoemakers of Melbourne outfit the nation, and without your work, the British puzzle would be incomplete."_

"What a delightful speech, Your Majesty," Melbourne smiled, just as the carriage hit a little bump. "Some brilliant political mind must have written it for you."

She smirked a little. It had been him, of course, who had crafted her speeches for each stop. The rain outside began to fall a bit harder, and Victoria touched at the carriage glass with her gloved hand. She swallowed hard, knowing that the time had come to ask what had been on her mind for weeks.

"William," she said, and he scoffed a bit. When she frowned at him, he said lightly,

"You use the name so rarely; this must be something quite serious."

His lips turned down the longer she stared at him, and then he just nodded. Victoria chewed her lip until she thought it might break open, and she said,

"Lord M. When I discovered that I was bleeding, you seemed… quite upset by the revelation. You were not pleased."

He shook his head. "You misunderstood, Victoria. I was pleased. Truly. I only want your happiness."

"But the paths to your happiness and mine diverge, I think." Victoria studied his face, the way the lines around his eyes seemed to deepen, and she added quietly, "You wish to be a father again."

Melbourne shut his eyes. "I… miss those days terribly. I confess that. But if you are afraid, Victoria, then I will never…"

He stopped then, turning his attention out the carriage window and staring at the passing fields. Victoria was pushing him, she knew, but she asked him,

"What was it like? Being a father?"

For a long moment, he said nothing. His throat bobbed and he adjusted his black gloves on his knees. Then, finally, still staring outside, he murmured,

"Caroline miscarried a few times first. She would tell me, my heart would soar, and then, just as quickly, it would sink like a stone. But one pregnancy went all the way through. She was a little sick in the beginning and uncomfortable at the end, but I had never seen her happier. Her labour was twelve hours. It felt like an eternity in the room where I was pacing, but the doctor said it was actually rather a short endeavour. And then I heard it… rising over her screams of pain, I heard his. Augustus, my little boy."

He shut his eyes again, and Victoria wanted to tell him he needn't continue. Her own eyes seared terribly, but Melbourne continued,

"When he was born, we had no idea anything was wrong. So, in my arms, he was perfect. I was so afraid to hold him, so afraid I would shatter him with my clumsy hands. He was glass to me, perfectly formed glass. But I learnt to hold him, and then I never, ever wanted to put him down again."

"Oh, Lord M." Victoria blinked through the tears that had formed in her eyes, and she whispered, "You must have that again, I think."

"No." He swiped carefully at one of his own eyes, and he reminded her, "I was young then. I am not young anymore."

Victoria stared more closely at him, at his lips and his nose and his eyes. Would a child of his have green eyes like his, she wondered? His dark, loose curls? Suddenly the images in her mind of death and misery were replaced by a single, strong picture - William Lamb, the only man who could ever love, his sleeves rolled to his elbows with a swaddled child in his arms.

"We will try again," she said then, and Melbourne's face twisted as if in pain.

"It is not what you want, Victoria," he whispered, but she insisted, a twist forming in her stomach,

"It is, actually. Somehow, I am no longer afraid, for I would have you with me, wouldn't I?"

"Always, Ma'am." He turned her face to her then and nodded once. Victoria knew that the timing was right again, that the odds were in her favour tonight, and she tried to lighten the mood by asking gently,

"Are the beds quite comfortable at Melbourne Hall?"

He finally cracked another smile then, his green eyes shining a little as he told her,

"I find them to be soft enough, Your Majesty, yes."

Victoria grinned. "Good. I very much look forward to making use of one."

* * *

 

"Good people of Melbourne, I greet you with great joy. What a delight it is to see the place that gave my dear husband his title. I can speak for him when I say that Melbourne is very often mentioned fondly in the royal household."

Victoria glanced over to her prince, who smiled up a little at the platform where she spoke. She gazed out upon the assembled crowd, the women in their ragged woolen shawls an simple bonnets. She looked at the barefoot children, at the men in moth-eaten jackets. Somehow, they seemed happy. They seemed kind. Victoria looked down at her page and continued,

"The beauty of Melbourne is enough to earn this village a place of honour among British locales. But it is the industrial contribution of Melbourne that I find truly impressive. I am delighted to hear of the fruits of labour that come from this fine place. Truly, the weavers and shoemakers of Melbourne outfit the nation, and without your work, the British puzzle would be incomplete. I thank you all most heartily for the hospitality. As your queen, I feel my life has been enriched by coming to this place. May God bless the people of Melbourne."

"God save Your Majesty!" A voice from the crowd pealed happily, and others applauded. Then there were more cries and shouts. "God save the queen! Bless you, Majesty! Thank you for visiting us, Your Majesty!"

Victoria grinned and nodded, making her way off the platform and accepting her husband's gloved hand when he extended it. Back in the carriage, she was still breathless with a racing heart, but he assured her,

"They adored you. Just like I knew they would."

"They were charming," Victoria smiled. "Those are the real people of this country."

"Are we not real, you and I?" Melbourne teased, but Victoria just looked out the window and waved as the carriage pulled away.

Melbourne Hall was far smaller than any of the royal residences. The prince seemed almost embarrassed of his family's seat as he showed Victoria through the limited selection of small rooms. But she just kept smiling at him and telling him it was lovely. The grounds certainly were, and he promised her that they could take a long walk the next morning. For now, though, Victoria was tired from what felt like endless riding in carriages and from her public speech.

Miss Skerrett had come on the expedition as part of the small servant retinue, and she stripped Victoria of her plaid silk dress and pulled the pins from her hair. She helped Victoria take a soapy sponge bath in the cramped dressing room, and then Victoria put on her nightgown. She breathed a sigh of relief at the feel of being so undressed, particularly after such a full day.

"Thank you, Miss Skerrett. Oh… you know, let us take my hair from this sleeping braid. I want it long and loose tonight."

"Yes, Ma'am." Skerrett smiled just a little, and Victoria knew the girl wasn't a fool. Suddenly Victoria felt compelled to ask,

"How often do the servants gossip about an heir, Miss Skerrett?"

The poor girl's hands froze, and she stood with her mouth open for a good long minute. Then, finally, she admitted,

"More often than is probably appropriate, Ma'am."

"I see. Thank you, Miss Skerrett. I shall see you in the morning to dress. I would like a good outfit for walking tomorrow, if you please."

"Yes, Ma'am. Goodnight, Ma'am." Skerrett struggled to back properly from the crowded little room, but she finally made it. Victoria huffed out a shaky sigh and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She remembered the way her dear Lord M had looked in the carriage when he'd talked about his son. He had also mentioned holding his troubled son's hand as he went to sleep. He would be a good father, Victoria thought suddenly. He would be the sort of father who would be both gentle and firm. She knew that from her own experience with him. And he'd been denied the chance to truly parent, to truly be the father he was capable of being. Victoria would not deny him that again.

She rose from her stool and walked briskly into the bedroom. She found that Melbourne was already there, pacing a bit anxiously in his robe and nightshirt. He turned when Victoria came into the room, and he bowed a little. He would never stop deferring to her, Victoria knew, but in this, she would try and defer to him.

"Lord M," she said quietly, "You are a thief."

"A thief, Ma'am?" He looked genuinely surprised, and he clasped his hands nervously behind his back. Victoria nodded and approached him slowly.

"As your queen, I find you entirely guilty of theft, and your victim is your monarch. You stole my heart, Lord M, with precisely no warning. Perhaps you did it gradually, day over day. Or perhaps it was in the very first moment that I met you. Either way, one day I looked for my heart, knowing I was meant to give it away to some prince or another, and it was already gone. It was with the rooks at Brocket Hall."

He took her face gently in his hands and told her,

"Perhaps I did steal from you, Ma'am, but I have tried very hard to care delicately for my loot."

"And in that, at least, you have succeeded most elegantly," Victoria nodded. "I shall love you forever, and the day after forever, I shall love you even more."

"I find myself very much in need of you now, Ma'am," Melbourne insisted, and Victoria nodded. He took her hand carefully in his and guided her to the stout, wood-framed bed. She climbed up onto the soft mattress, and Melbourne stripped off his robe and nightshirt. Victoria peeled off her own nightgown, and her lips fell open when she saw that he'd already gone hard.

"Anticipation?" She remembered the way he'd been on their wedding night, when his body had been more than prepared before she'd ever touched him. He glanced down and smirked a little.

"A man my age is grateful when it works at all, Ma'am. But for you, it works rather well, I think."

Victoria giggled at that, and as he climbed up onto the bed, she paid attention to his body. His muscles moved perfectly as he stalked like a predator toward her. She swallowed hard and felt her own skin prickle with want. She relaxed onto her back and stared up at him, and he tipped his head as he asked her,

"How would it please you?"

Which arrangement of their bodies, he meant. Victoria smiled a bit and admitted,

"I like to be atop you."

"Yes, I thought you might. That sounds very fine to me, Ma'am." Melbourne switched spots with her, lying on his back and gazing up at her as if she were made of diamonds. Victoria arranged herself on his thighs, touching his member to her front and playing with it a little. She went wet almost at once, and that only got more obvious when he reached up and began to play with her breast. He toyed with her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and he squeezed carefully at her soft flesh. His other hand ran up and down from her ribs to her hip, and he whispered,

"More beautiful now than ever before. Almost too beautiful to bear. Somehow, I shall bear it."

"Lord M." Victoria shut her eyes and shifted her body upward, sinking down onto his length and hissing at the feel of him filling her. He caught her hands in his and laced their fingers together, and as she began to roll her hips, he moaned a little and whispered,

"I fear my stamina may be unimpressive tonight. You please me far too much."

"Good." Victoria moved more quickly, more determinedly, and she winced with the shock of pleasure as her movements pushed his cock against her sensitive nub. She kept grinding against that spot, and she squeezed roughly at Melbourne's hands. She found his green eyes and just stared, and he said breathlessly,

"Tell me, please, that you like it."

"Mm-hmm." Victoria couldn't manage proper words. She tipped her head back, feeling everything pass the point of no return as her ears went hot and her stomach tensed. She cried out as she came, her body clenching around Melbourne's as her pleasure erupted. Finally she told him, "I like it."

He surprised her then by rolling their bodies, and once he was hovering above her, he informed her,

"It's best if I finish in you like this, I think."

Then suddenly Victoria remembered that they were trying to conceive a child, and again her mind was overwhelmed with the idea of him, smiling down at a tiny baby. She took his face in her hands and brought his mouth down to hers, and he groaned against her lips as he twitched inside of her.

"Lord M," Victoria whispered, planting kisses on his sharp cheekbones as he panted and recovered. She could feel his seed trickling out a bit, and he suggested,

"Perhaps a pillow for a few moments."

Victoria was confused, but when he shoved a pillow beneath her hips to prop them up, she understood. She nodded up at him, feeling more resolute than ever. His face was uncertain; he was afraid she would regret this. But she reassured him,

"I want it."

Half his mouth turned up then, and he dragged his fingers through his hair as he nodded.

"So do I, Ma'am. So do I."

**Author's Note: So maybe all Victoria needs to be less afraid is the idea of Lord M as a father. But even for Victoria, who had nine children with Albert, there are no guarantees of magically, quickly becoming pregnant, are there? As always, thank you so much for any and all feedback.**


	22. Chapter 22

"Victoria…"

"Hmm." She shifted, still mostly asleep, and felt Melbourne's arm come round her body. His hand played with her breast a little, and Victoria smiled with her eyes shut.

"It's morning, Ma'am," he whispered, and Victoria pushed her hips back against him as she insisted,

"Surely we have time to be man and wife before we leave for Ashbourne."

She was due to greet the people of the town of Ashbourne this afternoon; it was the fifth little place she would visit on her tour of Derbyshire. She rolled slowly to face Melbourne, and he huffed as he told her,

"I let you sleep as long as possible. Much as I would very much enjoy being inside of you right now… it is nine o'clock."

"Nine!" Victoria sat up, abruptly awake, and wondered, "Why hasn't anyone come to get me yet?"

"I told them not to, Ma'am. Told them to let you rest." Suddenly Victoria realised that Melbourne had crawled back into bed in his day's clothing, and she felt rather foolish.

"I should have been up at least an hour ago," she worried, hurrying from the bed and watching Melbourne heave himself off. He smiled warmly at her and insisted,

"You have been very busy this last week or so, Ma'am. I thought you'd earned the hour's sleep."

"Well, thank you, Lord M," Victoria said. She flicked her eyes up and down his body, noticing the way his maroon coat fit him just so, and she said quietly, "You look so very handsome today."

He scoffed. "No more than any other day, Ma'am, and I fear I am usually quite the opposite of handsome. Shall I send for Miss Skerrett?"

"Yes, please. I shall wait for her in the dressing room." Victoria breezed through the bedroom toward the dressing room, and as she passed him, Melbourne caught her fingers in his. She stared up at him, and his green eyes seemed kinder than ever as he told her,

"You do know, don't you, that you are prettiest when your hair is long and touched by sleep, when your eyes are still a little tired, when you're wearing nothing but a nightgown? You're prettiest then because that is when you are most mine. Perhaps I ought not feel any possession over you, but I do. I enjoy thinking it, saying the word in my head. Mine. And so I find you prettiest in the morning, Ma'am."

Victoria blinked through the tears that had come from nowhere, and she whispered,

"I shall still be yours in an hour's time, when Skerrett has braided my hair and bound me into a corset and silk. I am always yours, and you are always mine."

"Quite so, Ma'am. Let me go get your dresser." He squeezed her fingers a little and started to walk away, and Victoria shut her eyes against how fiercely she adored him.

* * *

 

"All right. Shall we go?" Victoria strode into the grand sitting room of Melbourne Hall, and her husband flew to his feet. He had a paper in his hands, and his face was quite serious.

"I'm afraid I need to go to London," he said simply, and Victoria shook her head in amused disbelief.

"London? No; you're coming with me to Ashbourne, Lord M."

"This is a letter from Sir Robert Peel." Melbourne held up the paper in his hands and stepped around the armchair to approach Victoria. She smoothed the skirts of her deep purple dress, and her stomach fluttered with anxiety. Melbourne gave Victoria an apologetic look and said,

"You remember, I'm sure, the uprisings in Upper and Lower Canada. Well, Lord Durham was sent to Canada to make an assessment of the situation, and his recommendation is an act of union to collect it all into one Canada. The primary goal of this, of course, is to eliminate French, Catholic influence in Canada through assimilation. The only trouble is, Parliament is struggling to make a compromise and write a bill that will decisively pass, and there is urgency to the situation."

"So Sir Robert wants to you to come to his rescue again," Victoria said bitterly. She scoffed and picked at her white lace gloves as she pointed out, "He wrote me a letter demanding assurance that I would remain impartial, that my marriage to you would be devoid of politicking. And yet, you are as politically active as when you were Prime Minister. He wants you to leave the tour upon which you are acting as Prince Consort so that you might return to draft legislation. He is a hypocrite."

"He may be, Ma'am, but this is very important." Melbourne's green eyes were pleading then. "Things are too unstable now for Peel to receive a vote of no confidence. Even worse would be if the Canada situation continued unresolved. I am the Prince Consort of this country, and as such, I worry desperately for its welfare. I beg you to allow me to do what I am able - to help draft a bill that will pass."

Victoria huffed out a breath. "I suppose you must go. But how am I to continue on the tour without you, Lord M?"

He smiled a little then, closing the gap between them and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"The people adore you, Victoria. You've got your speeches. You have people around you to get you where you need to be. And then… you just let them adore you. You will be perfectly fine, because you are perfectly capable. And, anyway, I will be back in a few days' time. I do not intend on staying long."

"Very well. I suppose you'll be off straight away, then?" Victoria tried not to show how distressed she was, but she knew Melbourne could read it in her eyes. He took her right hand in his and bowed, kissing her glove and then murmuring,

"I shall see you very soon, Ma'am."

Victoria nodded regretfully. "Goodbye, Lord M."

* * *

 

"The spas and wells of Buxton bring a great many people physical comfort and mental ease. This is a place of peace, a place where your fellow British citizens might experience some relief from the hardships of their lives at home. Buxton is a place I look forward to visiting again. I pray that God will bless each of you and continue to make this town prosperous and happy. I thank you very much indeed for the flowers and song with which you welcomed me today. I feel at home here in Buxton, this place of retreat. God bless you all."

"God save the queen!" The people started shouting as Victoria smiled and waved, tucking away her speech that had been written in Melbourne's hand. She smiled broadly as four children in their finest clothes brought her bundles of daisies and other flowers.

Buxton was the third-to-last stop on Victoria's tour, and within a week, she would be headed back to Buckingham Palace. She had to admit to herself that she had quite enjoyed the three weeks she had spent in Derbyshire thus far. And there was something else, too. She ought to have bled a week before. She was a full seven days late now. She had not written to Melbourne about it, desiring to inform him in person. She missed him terribly, for he had been gone eight days now when he had promised a quick return.

Victoria took her armload of flowers and walked as elegantly as she could manage to her waiting carriage. She waved again to the crowd that had gathered, and as a brass band nearby played her off, she allowed a footman to help her into the carriage. She set the flowers down and sighed, wondering if Melbourne would be proud of her speech if he'd seen in.

"Ma'am. The footman outside the carriage held a letter out to her. "This came urgently for you, Ma'am, by riders on speedy horses. It is from London, Ma'am."

"Thank you," Victoria whispered, taking the letter. She turned it over and recognised the writing of Sir Robert Peel on the front. Her stomach sank, and it took everything she had to delay opening the letter and wave to the people outside.

Never let them know how difficult it is to bear. That was the advice she'd been given once by Lord M, and she had never forgotten it. So she forced a smile and she waved as the carriage pulled off and the music and cheers faded into the distance. The carriage team began to trot, pulling Victoria back toward Melbourne Hall. Finally she broke the wax seal on the envelope with trembling fingers, and she pulled out the letter inside.

_Your Majesty,_

_I write to beg that you return immediately to London. His Royal Highness Prince William fell suddenly and seriously ill during our meeting early this morning. He is under the care of doctors, but it is my opinion that your presence with him is necessary._

_Sir Robert Peel_

Victoria couldn't breathe. She read the letter four times, and then she began to cry. He was ill. Her dear Lord M was ill. And Peel had said so very little by way of detail. Had he simply been trying to get the letter off quickly? It did look hastily written. Victoria gasped for air as she stared out the window of the carriage, wondering how quickly they could pack everything up and leave Melbourne Hall.

* * *

 

"Lord M? Where is he? Where is my husband?"

"Your Majesty." Robert Peel bowed low in the corridor outside Melbourne's rooms at Buckingham Palace. His face looked worried and drawn as he said, "He was fine one moment, Ma'am. Then he just went slack and wasn't answering. We sent for a doctor at once."

"And?" Victoria knew tears were silently running down her cheeks, but she could do nothing to stop them. Peel licked his bottom lip carefully and said,

"The last three days, he's been able to talk a little, eat a little, Ma'am. But the doctor said it was apoplexy. An attack within his brain."

"I must go see him. Thank you for writing me, Sir Robert." Victoria pushed past her Prime Minister into Melbourne's drawing room, and she practically sprinted as she reached his bedroom. She stopped in the doorway when she saw the doctor standing beside Melbourne's bed, murmuring to a younger man in a black coat. In the bed was William Lamb, viscount and prince and the only man Victoria could ever love. He looked grey and weary, and he stared blankly at the wall ahead of him.

"Lord M," Victoria said quietly, stepping into the room with measured steps. The doctor and his assistant bowed at once and murmured their platitudes, and then the elder doctor said,

"Your Majesty. For now, His Royal Highness requires absolute rest. We are doing everything we can."

"If you would, please excuse us," Victoria said, fighting back tears. "I thank you most heartily for your fine care of him, but I need a few moments."

"Of course, Your Majesty. We shall return tonight to check on him again." The two men bowed and backed out of the bedroom, and they shut the door quietly. Victoria shook like mad as she climbed up onto Melbourne's bed and took his hand. He turned very slowly and blinked, his eyes showing no sign of recognition. Then his mouth twitched a little, and he said in a blank voice,

"I've missed you, Ma'am."

"Lord M." Victoria kissed his hand, pressing her lips as hard as she could to his skin. He felt limp and empty, and she asked him,

"Do you know where you are?"

"Brocket," he whispered, but Victoria shook her head and reminded him gently,

"You're at Buckingham Palace, Lord M. Remember?" She stroked at his messy brown hair, but he said nothing. Feeling quite worried now, she demanded, "Do you know my name?"

"I shall remember it… sometime later," he said, but he did not give it. His eyes shut for a moment, and his hand went slack in hers, and Victoria desperately whispered,

"Do you know your own name?"

His eyes opened slowly, and he mumbled. "I'm your Lord M."

"Yes." Victoria made no effort to stem the tears now, and she glanced worriedly up and down his body. "Does it hurt? Are you in pain?"

"My head… it… aches." His words were slurred as if he were drunk, and Victoria could see that half his face was hardly moving at all. Melbourne stared at the wall again for a very long moment and then said again, "I've missed you, Ma'am. There will be… snow tonight."

That made no sense at all, for it was very warm and pleasant outside. Victoria wanted to scream with frustration and fear, but she kissed Melbourne's hand again and told him quietly,

"You are going to be a father again, William."

"Hmm." He just blinked and stared ahead. But then his face turned very slowly toward Victoria, and he asked in a blurred tone,

"You are… with child?"

"Yes." Victoria nodded quickly and put his hand on her lower abdomen. He stared at his own fingers, and Victoria told him, "You will hold your own precious child, Lord M. You will stare into the eyes of your son or daughter."

"A baby," he said in a dreamy voice, shutting his eyes. "There will… be…"

"Yes." Victoria suddenly noticed every grey strand in his hair, every line around his eyes, and she found herself asking him, "Do you remember when I fell down at Brocket Hall? I was running, and I fell down and hurt my ankle. Do you remember when that happened?"

"Mmm. Catch me, Lord M." His eyes were still shut, and his head lolled to the side a little. Victoria wanted her corset off then, for it was making breathing difficult through her gasping sobs. She bent to kiss Melbourne's dewy forehead, and she put her lips beside his ear.

"You carried me… all the way from the rooks back to the house. It was so far, and you didn't mind at all. And I thought you were so very strong. I was so impressed by how very strong you were. And I will be impressed again, because you will be strong and you will get better, Lord M, because… because…"

"Because I will be… father." Melbourne reached up with his trembling right hand, trying and failing to put his palm to Victoria's face. She helped him, and he must have felt all her tears beneath his fingers, because he slurred,

"Please do not cry, Ma'am."

He seemed clearer then, if only for a moment. It didn't last; he shut his eyes and his hand fell, and he began to sing quietly,

"We'll rant and we'll roar… like true British sailors. We'll rant and we'll roar…"

Victoria did not know many naval shanties, but she knew that one. He had to have learnt it during his years of military service. When his voice trailed off, Victoria sang in a cracked voice,

"All on the salt seas. Until we strike soundings in the Channel of old England. From Ushant to Scilly, 'tis thirty-five leagues."

She sat there in silence then, just watching him breathe, relishing the sight of his chest going up and down.

"Victoria," Melbourne mumbled after a good long while, and she took his hand again.

"I'm here," she told him, and half his mouth curled up as he said for the third time,

"I've missed you, Ma'am."

She nodded, though he could not see her. "I have missed you, too, Lord M."

**Author's Note: Oh, dear. We know that the real Lord M suffered a stroke, and it certainly seems that a similar medical event has happened here. But now that Victoria's pregnant, will he find his way to some semblance of recovery? As always, I would really, really, really appreciate any feedback. Thank you!**


	23. Chapter 23

"You may put it just there. Thank you."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?" The skinny little maid set down the bowl of porridge and cup of beef broth, and Victoria just shook her head. The maid curtsied and backed out of Melbourne's bedroom, and Victoria pulled up the chair she'd been using every morning for the past two weeks.

"Good morning, Lord M," she said loudly, and he jolted to attention, seeing her for the first time. His eyes illuminated a little, and it looked like he was trying to smile.

"Morning, Ma'am," he said in a hoarse, empty voice. Victoria picked up the bowl of porridge and the spoon, and she blew on a little before encouraging him,

"Eat a little, will you?"

His shaking lips parted, and Victoria had to struggle hard to get the spoon between them without spilling its contents. For a moment, Melbourne just held the porridge in his mouth, and Victoria reminded him firmly,

"You must swallow it, Lord M."

He seemed to struggle enormously with that task, and Victoria noticed how thin his face had gotten over the last few weeks. He was positively gaunt; eating was nearly impossible for him. She set down the porridge and picked up the cup of broth, and she brought it up to his lips. She tipped his head back a little and poured, and she was suddenly afraid he would choke.

"Swallow," she whispered again, and though he tried, he coughed and spluttered a bit. Victoria set the cup down and reached for his hand, saying gently,

"I'm afraid I can't stay long. I have to do the boxes."

"Boxes." Melbourne seemed confused, but then he nodded a little and looked like he'd just thought of something. "You are the queen."

"I am." Victoria brought his hand to her lips and murmured against his skin, "You carried me. You taught me everything. I need you back. Please, please Lord M."

She looked up to see that his eyes were wet and red, and after a moment he whispered,

"I am trying, Ma'am."

"I know. I know you are." Victoria let out a shaking breath and suddenly felt extraordinarily ill. She reached quickly beneath Melbourne's bed and emptied her own stomach, wretching and clutching at her stomach. She'd been far more sick than was usual; her doctor kept insisting that the stress of Melbourne's infirmity was making her pregnancy more difficult than it otherwise would have been. But Victoria didn't care. She reached for a handkerchief on Melbourne's nightstand and dabbed at her lips, and she set the chamber pot down with shaking hands.

"Ginger root," mumbled Melbourne, and for a moment, she thought he was speaking nonsense again. But then he reached carefully for her fingers and said, "Chew ginger root, Ma'am."

"For the nausea, you mean?" Victoria asked, and then she laughed a little under her breath. "I have far more on my mind than my own maternal sickness, Lord M. For example… the doctor said that you moved your left hand yesterday. Is it true?"

"I do not recall," he mused, but he turned his eyes to his left hand, and he seemed to be concentrating hard. Then Victoria saw his fingers twitch, and then they twitched again, and suddenly he'd balled his hand into a trembling fist. He gasped from the effort, going limp and huffing out breath.

"Oh, very well done indeed," Victoria grinned. She reached for his thin face and held him, and she waited until his green eyes found hers. They were more vacant than usual, but they were still his. Victoria nodded and said firmly, "You will hold your child, Lord M."

"Yes," he said quietly in response. His face twisted a little, and a silent tear wormed its way from his right eye. His bottom lip, misshapen by his one-sided paralysis, twitched a bit, and he told her, "I am... proud of you, Ma'am."

"Proud of me?" Victoria repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. She wanted to ask him why, but she knew he couldn't explain. He looked like he was desperately trying, and for a moment, Victoria saw the old Lord M who had always supported and instructed her. Finally he managed a nod, and his voice came out weakly.

"Very proud, Ma'am."

There was a knock on the door then, and Victoria called out for the servant to enter.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty, but Sir Robert Peel is here to see you. And your boxes have arrived."

"Thank you," she said quietly, still staring at her husband. She rubbed at his shoulder a little, and she whispered, "I will be back after luncheon, Lord M."

He tried to smile, and though it came out like a grimace, there was a hint of cheer in his voice as he said,

"I'll be here, Ma'am."

* * *

 

"Good morning, Sir Robert." Victoria held her hand out, and Peel quickly descended to his knee. He kissed her hand briskly and rose.

"Your Majesty, the Archbishop of Canterbury writes to request your permission to hold a formal prayer service for His Royal Highness." Peel held out a letter, which Victoria looked over quickly before nodding.

"That would be greatly appreciated," she said. "Will any members of the House attend?"

"Oh, I imagine that all the members of the House will attend, Ma'am," Peel replied. "There was a moment of prayerful silence in the assembly yesterday."

"How very kind." Victoria's eyes burned, but she just shook her head a little and admitted, "I think I have cried more tears these last weeks than ever before in my life. Sir Robert, I asked you to come today because there is something I must share with you. It is probably past time for an announcement."

She moved to her desk and sat, and she gestured for Peel to sit opposite her. He looked a little confused, and Victoria told him with a rough laugh,

"I have not even told my own mother, Sir Robert. But this is a matter of state, now more than ever. I am with child."

Peel's thick eyebrows went up, and his mouth fell open in surprise. He nodded and said in a hollow voice,

"Congratulations, Ma'am."

"Obviously, I wish the circumstances were different," Victoria said, and suddenly she was overwhelmed with the horrid notion of burying her Lord M whilst her belly was still swollen. She shook with silent little cries then, and Sir Robert Peel had the good sense to look away. Victoria swiped a handkerchief at her eyes and steadied herself.

"I shall have an announcement drafted in a few weeks," she said. "I wish for it to be read in Parliament, and we shall have it issued to the newspapers. But the doctor insists I ought to wait a few more weeks before making an announcement."

"Very good, Ma'am." Peel shifted in his chair and asked carefully, "Does His Royal Highness know? That is to say, does he understand?"

"Yes." Victoria nodded and folded her hands on the desk. "He understands little right now, but he does understand that. It brings him a bit of joy when I speak of it, I think."

"Then, Ma'am," Peel said, "may I recommend that you speak of it often to him?"

The rest of their meeting moved mechanically, and Victoria wrote a quick letter back to the Archbishop. Once Peel left, the Duchess of Kent came, and Victoria forced herself to stand and greet her mother.

"Drina," the Duchess said as the drawing room door shut behind her. She rushed toward her daughter and looked morose. "How is the poor Prince William today?"

"He spoke more than once, and he moved his left hand," Victoria said hopefully. The Duchess did not look as encouraged as Victoria felt. Victoria took her mother's hand and guided her over to the two divans that faced one another. She sat, and then her mother did, and Victoria said without pretense,

"There will be a little prince or princess soon enough, Mama."

The Duchess' face moved from surprise to glee, and she clapped her gloved fingers to her mouth.

"Oh, Drina! It finally happened? How far… when did you find out?"

"The doctor says it is still quite early. Not yet two months in. Things are still fragile. There will be no formal announcement for some time, so your discretion is required."

"Of course." The Duchess grinned broadly and dabbed her gloved fingers at her eyes. "I am so proud of you, Drina."

Victoria winced a little. Those were the same words Lord M had used with her, but his had meant something very different. Just the same, Victoria managed to force a little smile, and she said tightly,

"Thank you, Mama."

* * *

 

"Victoria…"

She sprang awake, sitting bolt upright in Melbourne's bed and studying his face in the candlelight. He was pale and drawn, but his eyes seemed brighter than they'd been.

"Do you need something, Lord M?" Victoria asked. "Do you need the chamber pot? I can fetch your -"

"No." He reached up then, and it took a moment for Victoria to realise he'd used his left hand to do it. Her eyes welled at once, and she gasped for air as she covered his hand with hers. He smiled a bit, and she watched as the left side of his mouth curled up.

"Sorry to wake you, Ma'am," he murmured, but Victoria shook her head madly and said,

"There could be no better reason to wake me. Tell me. Please. Do you know where you are?"

"Buckingham," he whispered, and Victoria began to cry harder than ever. She'd cried so much lately that it almost felt normal. She bent to kiss him, to press her lips against his, and she was surprised when he kissed her back. He was careful, pulling gently at her lip and pushing his tongue clumsily into her mouth, and then he whispered,

"I want you."

Victoria laughed through her tears and shook her head. "Oh, no. I think you must wait some time before anything like that, Lord M."

"Victoria." He reached for her right hand and dragged it under the blankets. His hand shook around her wrist as he guided her hand to his nightshirt. She felt her eyebrows fly up at the realisation that he was hard, and she tried hard not to laugh at him as she whispered,

"The doctor says that none of that is safe, Lord M. Not until you're entirely yourself again."

"But I want you now," he said, his crooked little smile bringing the old Lord M back to his eyes. Victoria sighed and stroked at him a little, but she said again,

"I'm not meant to… they said it isn't safe for you, Lord M. I'm sorry."

He huffed out a frustrated breath and shut his eyes for a moment, and Victoria pulled her hand away from his manhood.

"You have been incredibly bored, I know," she said. "And I promise you something. As soon as it is safe for you, my mouth will be around you every single night."

His eyes sprang open and then flashed, and they both laughed a little. Then Melbourne reached with his weak, unsteady hand, and he touched it to Victoria's lower abdomen. His throat bobbed - another good sign, as swallowing had been difficult for him - and he whispered,

"The child must have your eyes. Blue."

"Mine?" Victoria scoffed and shook her head. "No, Lord M. I shall hope and pray for your green eyes instead."

He smirked a bit, and he seemed to be physically struggling for a moment until he joked,

"Just so long as there are eyes… on the child."

Victoria broke into wild laughter then, taking his face in her hands and kissing him hard on the mouth. He kissed her back again, more firmly this time, and Victoria let him. Hell take rest after so many weeks, she thought, and then she reached beneath the blankets.

**_Author's Note: I am very grateful for any and all readership, and I hate complaining about a lack of reviews, but it has been a number of chapters since I've had any feedback. I would absolutely love to know what your thoughts are if you're reading, so if you get just a quick moment, please do drop a little note. Thanks so much for reading._ **


	24. Chapter 24

Victoria ignored the chatter of Lady Frances Cowper and Lady Wilhelmina Stanhope as they walked through the gardens of Buckingham Palace. The first signs of autumn had appeared; the leaves were beginning to tinge away from green, and the slightest bite of chill was in the air. Victoria frowned a little as she thought about how her first anniversary of marriage was approaching, of how it had been almost exactly a year ago that she'd gone to Brocket Hall and confessed to Lord M that she loved him. Now she rubbed a little at her abdomen, where the visible swelling had taken shape.

"Your Majesty, may I ask how my uncle the prince is doing?"

Victoria turned to Lady Frances Cowper and smiled weakly. "He was the same this morning as the last few days, Frances. But he did manage to spoon some porridge into his mouth himself, and his speech is much improved."

"That's wondrous to hear," Lady Frances said. "My mother has been so very concerned with him, and has only seen him the one time."

"Well, you must tell Lady Palmerston to visit him again," Victoria said earnestly. "Lord M cares so for his sister."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Lady Frances bowed her head a little, and Victoria ran her hand over her abdomen again. She turned to look back up to the palace, and she said quietly, "I look forward very much to him being entirely himself again."

"If I may ask, Majesty," said Lady Wilhelmina, glancing between Frances Cowper and the queen, "Do the doctors suppose His Royal Highness will regain all his faculties?"

"If you'd asked a month ago, I think the answer would have been very uncertain," Victoria said. "But they seem more confident now. His improvements, they say, are unlike anything they have seen."

"I have heard that determination and motivation are keys to recovery from apoplexy, Ma'am," said Lady Wilhelmina. A warm look crossed her face, and she added, "Perhaps His Royal Highness feels he has good reason to improve."

Victoria glanced down at her abdomen, where her loosened corset showed her condition a bit. She felt the faintest flutter inside, and she shut her eyes.

"Perhaps you're right," she said, and she began to walk back to the palace.

* * *

 

"Has he been assisted in using the chamber pot?" Victoria asked frankly, and Melbourne's manservant nodded.

"He has been bathed with a sponge, Ma'am. He has relieved himself. He is comfortably in bed in his nightclothes. Is there anything else, Ma'am?"

"No. Thank you." Victoria watched the attendant bow low and back out of Melbourne's drawing room. She stalked slowly through the dark room and into Melbourne's bedroom. She was surprised to see him holding a book and staring at it, and she wondered if he'd regained his ability to read.

"Is it interesting?" She stepped closer to him, and his eyes turned to her. "Your book?"

"I read a bit and then forget it, I think." Melbourne set the book down, and then his eyes flicked up and down Victoria's form. His lips curled up a little, and he murmured, "I can see it now."

She put one hand on the top of her stomach and the other on the bottom, and she asked him gently,

"Would you like to see more closely?"

"Yes, please, Ma'am." He set his book aside, still sounding far more weak than he used to do. Victoria pulled her robe off and hung it up, and she moved to the other side of his bed. She climbed up and adjusted herself, half on her back and half on her side so that she was comfortable. She reached for Melbourne's hand, and she encouraged him to rub over the little swell. His face warmed, and his eyes went very wet, and he said softly,

"How wonderful indeed."

"And we must think of names," Victoria said, fighting back the urge to cry. She'd gone a week without crying, and she wasn't going to start up again now. She looked up at Melbourne and suggested, "Emily if it is a girl. For your sister."

"Oh." He looked very emotional at that suggestion, and even more so when Victoria said,

"And of course, if it is a boy, it must be William."

"Must it?" He smirked a little and shook his head. "Perhaps… you would want a more honourable name."

"Like George?" Victoria teased. She shook her head and moved Melbourne's hand over her belly again. "It would have to be William."

Melbourne shut his eyes and relaxed against the pillows a little.

"I tried to stand today," he said. "I lasted... four or five seconds... before the doctor caught me."

"But that's marvelous!" Victoria exclaimed. She took his face in her hands and kissed him hard, and his hand slid from her abdomen up her rib cage. He sucked in air hard through his nostrils, and Victoria could feel that he wanted her. It had been months since he'd been inside of her, and there had only been that one time many weeks earlier where she'd touched him beneath the blankets. Now his hand seemed to be be searching for something, and his mouth felt urgent against hers.

"Lord M…" Victoria whispered, reaching down and feeling that he was hard. She couldn't help but want him back. It had been so long. It felt like it had been an eternity. She pushed his shoulder gently until he was lying on his back, and she hiked her own nightgown up around her waist. He looked very surprised as she peeled the blankets back and straddled him, and he whispered,

"A magnificent queen and an even… an even better wife. You are… mmph, Victoria…"

She slid him into her body and he arched his back a little, his hands and arms going limp as Victoria began to move. She cycled her hips - up and down, forward and back, over and over again. His hands finally moved up to her thighs, and then they crept to her backside. He squeezed, and Victoria was surprised by the strength in his fingers. She moved a little faster and encouraged him,

"Harder, Lord M."

"Victoria." He tightened his hands, and she could not help but smile. If she told the doctor how well his hand strength was doing, she would have to explain that she'd learnt of it from his squeezing her backside. But, for now, she only cared that he could wrench his eyes shut, that he could push his hips up against hers, that his forearms were tight with the effort of holding her.

When he came, it seemed more intense than anything she'd ever seen from him. One of his hands slapped at her backside a bit, surprising her and making her yelp, and he drove his head back against the pillow as he gasped for air. Victoria waited for his breath to slow back down, and she finally slid off of him and ignored the trail of his seed that leaked between her legs. She held her abdomen protectively as she lay down beside him, and Melbourne's throat bobbed hard.

"God help me. I have missed that. Missed you," he whispered. Victoria smiled a bit to herself and leaned over to kiss his sharp cheekbone.

"You must be very much improved, Lord M," she said, "to do something like that."

He smiled crookedly and turned his head to her. "I feel… as if I could dance again."

"Perhaps we should try," Victoria suggested, though she knew that was a terrible idea. He might fall on her and hurt the baby, even if he were standing reliably. Melbourne's eyes went sad for a moment, and he chewed his lip as he thought about something. Finally he said,

"A waltz. The next time I dance with you, Victoria… it will be…"

He trailed off then, looking extraordinarily tired all of a sudden. Victoria nodded.

"A waltz." She brushed her thumb across his ragged chin, and she whispered, "You need a shave, Lord M."

"Hmm. He's coming… in the morning to do it." Melbourne's eyes fluttered shut, and suddenly he looked older than he'd ever looked. So much more of his hair had gone grey. The lines around his eyes had deepened immensely. But he was still so very handsome, and Victoria found herself telling him,

"I love you so much it hurts."

"I don't want to hurt you, Ma'am," Melbourne replied, his eyes still closed. She scoffed a bit and touched her lips to his.

"It is a good pain, Lord M. Rest now; I've worn you out far beyond anything the doctor would approve of me doing."

"Hell take the doctor, then," Melbourne rasped, and Victoria smiled broadly. She turned to face away from Melbourne and snuggled up back against him. She felt him thread one arm around her, and he cradled her belly, rubbing gently against the little swell.

"You will hold your child," she told him, just like she'd been telling him for weeks. She felt him kiss the back of her head, and his voice was gentle as ever as he answered,

"What a blessed day that will be. Goodnight, Ma'am."

She covered his hand with hers. "Goodnight, Lord M."

* * *

 

**Author's Note: So he's definitely getting better! And Victoria's pregnancy is progressing normally (a weird thing for me to write, since I almost died from my own pregnancy). But we all know that she's still afraid of childbirth and that she is inherently disgusted by newborns. Will her dear Lord M be able to temper any of this as delivery approaches? Thanks as always for any and all feedback!**


	25. Chapter 25

"I could not possibly begin to explain to you how joyful it makes me to see you walking properly, Lord M."

Victoria pulled her heavy woolen cape more tightly about herself and smiled at her husband. He was all done up, finally, in a warm black ensemble, a felt top hat sitting above his neatly combed hair. He smiled back at Victoria and seemed to only be using his cane for extra support.

"I must say, I'm surprised that Sir Robert Peel was amenable to the idea of my doing the boxes for you once your time comes, Ma'am. I thought, perhaps, that he would assume my incompetence."

Victoria cradled her belly in her hands. It had grown enormous now, and she was only seven weeks away from the date when the doctors said she was due. She could feel the child fluttering about inside, sometimes kicking violently at her ribs, and just now the baby seemed especially hell bent on cracking one. Victoria paused and bent a little, trying to find her breath as a few powerful kicks pummeled her.

"Victoria?" Melbourne's voice seemed concerned from beside her, but she just reached silently for his hand and clutched it, finally breathing in deeply and standing.

"I daresay I am to birth a great dancer," Victoria joked. "What mighty little legs the thing possesses."

Melbourne couldn't help but smirk at that, it seemed, though he seemed to be making some effort to stifle his smile. He reached over to boldly place his hand on the curve of Victoria's abdomen, and she paused to let him feel the fluttering kicks. Suddenly Melbourne's face illuminated, as though a candle had been lit beneath his skin. He grinned widely and whispered,

"What a marvelous thing it is."

She could see him now, laughing with a little child, and all of a sudden her fear of childbirth was somewhere else. Victoria kept walking down the gravel path, and it was a very good long while before she finally said,

"It is cold, and I am sore. Let us return, Lord M, for a good hot meal."

* * *

 

"So Parliament has agreed to name the prince as regent?" The Duchess of Kent nibbled at her little cake two weeks later, and Victoria threw her eyebrows up.

"Does that disappoint you, Mama?" She knew of her mother's boundless ambition, but the Duchess of Kent feigned horror and offence as she set down her napkin.

"Drina," she said firmly, "I only want your happiness. And the good function of this country, of course."

"Of course," Victoria said slyly. "You think Lord M is not yet well enough to serve as regent."

"That is not for me to decide, of course," the Duchess shrugged, "but people do talk."

"People always talk, Mama," Victoria huffed. She sipped at her own teacup and said, "He is walking and talking quite normally. Only very rarely does he have some physical weakness on one side. His mind is entirely sound. Besides, I intend on being entirely back in order a week or so after -"

"A week?" The Duchess scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. "Drina, after you were born, I was practically locked in my bedroom for two months."

"Well, that simply will not be possible," Victoria said. "I am the monarch of this country. I will be back to work in short order. I have also hired three nursery maids and a governess, and additionally will be using the services of a very kind wet nurse called Anne Fulbright.

"So you mean to just hand the child off, then?" The Duchess said. "Will you know the child's name, I wonder?"

"Mama!" Victoria felt rage go through her, and suddenly there was another swift kick to her ribs. She put her hand to the spot where she'd been kicked, and she assured her mother, "Lord M means to be very involved indeed. I'm sure I will be a fine mother, though your lack of faith in me is alarming."

The Duchess sighed lightly. "Who is to be in charge of the child's rearing, then? What is she called?"

"It is actually Lady Emma Portman," Victoria said. "Her husband is such a dear friend of Lord M's, you know, and she is an experienced mother."

"Hmph. And will I be allowed into the child's rooms?" The Duchess looked hurt all of a sudden, but Victoria gave her a little smile and nodded.

"Yes, Mama. Of course you will. The child is moving like mad just now; would you like to feel?"

"Oh, yes." The Duchess gasped and hurried from one divan to the other. She sat beside her daughter and put her hand on Victoria's abdomen, and she grinned widely when she felt the little fluttering kicks. Victoria covered her mother's hand with her own, and for the first time in a good long while, she felt genuinely happy.

* * *

 

"Lord M."

Victoria tried to sit up, clutching at her stomach as wrenching pains ripped her through. She gasped through clenched teeth and said more firmly,

"William! Wake up!"

He did, springing to sit up. He could tell at once that Victoria was in pain, and he moved as quickly as his ongoing condition would allow to get his legs off the bed.

"I shall… send for the doctors," he said rather weakly, but Victoria moaned,

"It could be nothing. It is not yet time. It is still too early…. ahhhhh!"

She shrieked then, pounding the mattress with her fist as Melbourne hurried off the bed and out into her drawing room. She could hear him calling out for Lehzen, demanding that the doctors be sent for at once. Then he hobbled back into the bedroom and stood beside Victoria, letting her squeeze his hand as her head tipped back in agony. For hours, she'd been in bed with dull pains coming and going, irregularly at first and then in steady pulls that had made tears stream down her cheeks.

Now, hours into the ordeal, it felt like someone was tearing her muscles apart by hand, like someone was punching her roughly without stopping. Victoria sobbed and tried to get air, and a gentle voice from beside her murmured,

"Breathe in, Victoria… breathe out. Breathe in… breathe out."

She tried desperately to do as he said, but the pain only got worse. There was a rush of fluid between her legs, as though she'd wet herself, and Victoria cried out. Suddenly she felt as though she were going to have a bowel movement, and she shouted,

"No, Lord M; it's happening now. Now! Ahhh!"

"Now? What?" Melbourne climbed up onto the bed, shoving her nightgown up around her waist and staring between her legs. He started to roll up the sleeves of his own nightshirt, and he said quietly, "It does indeed seem as though it is happening now. Lehzen! Where are the doctors?"

There was no reply to that, and Victoria writhed desperately as the squeezing pain became overwhelming. There was a searing, burning sensation around the edges of her womanhood, and Victoria screamed. Someone was holding a hot poker to her brain. That was how it felt.

"Victoria, push as though you're… as though you're on the chamber pot. You understand?" Melbourne's voice was distant and faint, and Victoria's ears were ringing loudly. His hands were between her legs, and he nodded up at her. She stared at him through the blurry dim light of the room, and she threw her head back as she pushed. She held it for as long as she could, and then she heard Melbourne say,

"Again. You are strong; you can do this, Ma'am."

"Your Royal Highness!"

Someone else was there. The doctors. Victoria pushed again, as hard as she could, and the doctor's voice murmured something about fetching water and rags.

"Send Lehzen. I will stay with Her Majesty," said Melbourne firmly. He was beside her then, holding her hand and kissing her dewy forehead, and he whispered, "You are doing so well, Victoria. Look how quickly it happened. So quickly, and it will be over soon. Keep pushing… now, Victoria, push now."

She did, and this time she felt an emptying sort of relief when she did. She sobbed from the pain and the effort, but then, all of a sudden, she heard it.

The cry of a little child.

"Lord M," Victoria whispered, feeling dizzy, and he put his lips beside her ear.

"William Edward Henry, Your Majesty. It is little William."

He repeated the name for the doctors, and then poor Lehzen was sent off again. The crying did not cease, and Melbourne called for the wet nurse to be summoned as quickly as possible. Victoria felt an awful squish as her body pushed something else out, and then she watched as a large red lump that looked like an organ was put into a metal pan. Everyone was cleaning her up then, using wet rags on her face and between her legs.

Then she turned her face and saw her husband, standing in his nightshirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, cradling a carefully swaddled little thing, smiling down at it with peace in his green eyes.

"The birth was early, Your Highness, and the child is very small," said the doctor. "We must perform an examination straight away."

"Just one more moment," Melbourne whispered. He walked over to Victoria's side, bending down so that she could see the little creature. William Edward Henry. His features were in miniature, of course, but even at his tiny size, Victoria could see her Lord M in the child's face. She kissed the baby's forehead and whispered,

"Mama and Papa love you very dearly, little one."

"That we do." Melbourne wrapped the child back up into his arms, pressing his lips to the child's cheek for a long moment. Then he sounded quite worried as he agreed with the doctor, "He is so very small. And he came so quickly, so early…"

"If Your Highness will please allow us to examine the little prince," said the doctor, and Melbourne reluctantly handed the bundle in his arms over. He was back at Victoria's side then, and her eyes seared as he helped her drink some water.

"He's going to be all right, isn't he?" Victoria asked nervously, and Melbourne nodded, though he looked very uncertain.

"I'm sure he will be just fine, our little William," he said. "Now, Victoria, shut your eyes, if only for a few moments. You did marvelously."

"I love you, Lord M," she said, and he leaned over to touch his lips to hers as he nodded.

"And I love you, Ma'am."

**Author's Note: Oh, my. So, the baby came early but not TOO early… and after a speedy, urgent birth like that (which I envy, having had 36 hrs of labor and an emergency c-section), the people will wake up surprised to learn that there is a new prince! I promise not to crush anyone's heart too terribly with upcoming chapters!**


	26. Chapter 26

"They said I would find you in here. That you'd been in here for an hour."

Victoria swept into Baby William's nursery, and his wet nurse flew to her feet with Emma Portman. Melbourne slowly stood, William cradled carefully in his arms, and Victoria admonished him,

"Sit, Lord M, whilst you're holding him."

He looked vaguely amused but obeyed. Victoria nonverbally dismissed the staff on hand to care for the little prince, and both women curtsied and backed from the room. Once they'd gone, Victoria sat beside Melbourne, admiring the way he looked with his sleeves rolled up and his son against his chest. Melbourne passed the child over to Victoria, who panicked for a brief moment before taking him.

She loved her son, and after six weeks of his life, she was finally beginning to feel comfortable around him. But she was nowhere near as comfortable as her Lord M was. Motherhood was not something that would likely come naturally to her, Victoria reckoned. She let Melbourne adjust her arms a little around the wrapped baby, but he instantly began to wriggle against her hold, and she whispered,

"He wants his Papa."

"He'll be fine," Melbourne assured her, pulling the soft white blanket more firmly about Baby William. Melbourne kissed the baby's forehead, then his queen's, and he said softly, "All babies long for their mothers."

"I wonder if I did," Victoria mused, and Melbourne did not answer. She stared down into Baby William's face, and he cooed a little. She smiled to herself and said, "You were right about his eyes, I suppose. They are blue."

"Still loads of time for them to change, Ma'am," Melbourne said, scratching at his wavy brown hair. Victoria frowned with confusion, looking back down into her son's eyes.

"Change?"

"Well, yes, Ma'am. A baby's eyes very often start out blue, then settle on green or even brown," Melbourne said. Victoria swallowed hard and met his gaze.

"So very much I do not know about any of this," she said. "Thank God Baby William and I have you."

"Oh, you'd do just as well without me," Melbourne asserted, but Victoria shook her head. Baby William began writhing in her arms again, and he let out an angry little cry.

"He's hungry," Melbourne said confidently, taking the baby from Victoria's arms and rising swiftly. "I shall go get the wet nurse for him."

"Will you ride out with me?" Victoria asked, smoothing her skirts as she stood. Melbourne nodded over his shoulder.

"Yes, Ma'am. As soon as he's settled."

Victoria watched then as the nurse and Emma came back into the room. Melbourne showed no shame at all as the wet nurse pulled down her loosened bodice and arranged Baby William against her breast. His cries stopped at once as he began to suckle. The noise was unnerving to Victoria, and she hurried to pat the baby's head as she strode away.

"I shall come and visit him before bed tonight," she promised, and Emma Portman curtsied.

"I'm sure His Highness delights in the visits of his parents, Ma'am."

"Particularly those of his father," Victoria smiled. She left then, accompanied by Melbourne, and her eyes stung a little as she walked down the corridor.

"Victoria," Melbourne said gently. She turned to face him, blinking away the tears in her eyes, and he put his hands up to cup her cheeks.

"You are a beautiful mother to him." His eyes were warm and reassuring. "You are young, and you've had no experience whatsoever with this. He is well cared-for, and that includes by you. And, really, Victoria, I think his eyes will stay blue like yours."

"Oh, Lord M. You have always known perfectly well how to repair an ill mood within me," Victoria whispered. She was uncertain about motherhood in general, about whether Baby William even liked her. But her Lord M was there to reassure her, and so she let her head go against his chest. She squeezed a little at his shirt and whispered,

"I was so afraid I would lose you entirely and be left on my own with all this."

"Well, I am here, for better or worse," Melbourne said. "Now. You said something about riding out."

* * *

 

"The Christening will take place next month in the Throne Room, if you are amenable to that," Melbourne said as he came into the bedroom later that night. "I've just come from a meeting with Sir Robert Peel and the Archbishop."

"That sounds fine. Thank you." Victoria paused, running her fingers through her long hair. "I held him for a half hour. William, that is. He slept the entire time, and I think he is happiest with me when his eyes are shut."

"Oh, Victoria." Melbourne untied his robe and hung it up. "He adores you, and he will adore you even more with time. The doctors say he is growing beautifully."

"Like a little beast, they told me," Victoria nodded. "He is perfectly formed and eats well, and for that we should give thanks, given the circumstances of… everything."

Melbourne's illness, she meant, and the early birth. Melbourne's face warmed as he climbed up onto the bed, and he sighed as he asked,

"How is the bleeding?"

A little shock of want cut straight through Victoria, and she murmured, "It stopped three days ago."

"Did it?" Melbourne reached for her hand and held it, stroking his fingertips over her palm and giving her a serious look. "And do you feel well in yourself?"

"I want you," she said plainly. He smirked a bit, but she barreled on, "I want you again, Lord M. So, so badly. It feels as though it has been an eternity, and I can stand it no longer."

"But of course we must be very careful," he warned her. "We wouldn't want to put you in the same position again so soon."

"Quite right," Victoria nodded. "But, then, we managed a very good long while without… you know, without putting a child within me. Many months, we lasted."

"I shall do everything in my power to protect you," Melbourne said gravely. He kept stroking her hand, and the feel was so overwhelming that Victoria found the courage to ask him,

"Will you be… just a little rough with me, Lord M?"

"Rough?" His eyebrows flew up, and he scoffed a bit as he asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Victoria felt her cheeks go warm. "When I was with child, and I was atop you, you swatted at my bottom a little."

"Mmm." Now it was Melbourne's turn to flush scarlet, and he shook his head a bit as he insisted, "That was instinct, Ma'am."

"I liked it," she told him. "I thought about it often. I still do. Will you do it again?"

His mouth fell open a little, and he blinked a few times, but he finally whispered, "Lie down on your stomach, Ma'am."

She did as he said, feeling breathless as he pulled her nightgown up and over her arms. She was naked to him then, and his fingertips dragged from her shoulder blades down over her back. She wondered vaguely if he found her fat now; her perfectly flat stomach from before had given way to a softer state of being. If he minded the extra bit of plumpness upon her form, he did not show it. He growled quietly behind her and squeezed at her backside with both hands. Then, very suddenly, there was a little smack from his right hand.

Victoria squirmed and moaned a bit, relishing the heat she felt on her skin when he pulled his hand away.

"Again," she instructed him. "Harder."

He obeyed, striking her more firmly this time and grunting with obvious desire. Then he smacked her left side, and soon his hands were alternating back and forth, his force growing more firm and his pace more steady. Victoria cried out at last, the burning and pain too much to bear any longer. Her wrists were caught up above her head, and he squeezed them hard as he drove himself into Victoria's womanhood. She let out a muffled shriek into her pillow, and Melbourne began to pump himself steadily in and out.

It felt good, all of it. The way his hands pinned her wrists down, the way her backside was pulsing hot from his spankings, the way he was driving himself into her at just the right angle. VIctoria came with a force unknown to her, moaning like a harlot and not caring one bit about it. She clamped onto him erratically; she could feel it happening. Suddenly Melbourne wrenched his manhood out of Victoria's body and slid it up through the cleft of her backside. There was wet heat against her skin, then. He was finishing all over her back. His fingers tightened around her wrists, and he whispered frantically,

"Oh, Victoria. Victoria."

She lay there staring at the wall, not moving as he cleaned her up with a wet rag from the wash table. She studied the wallpaper, and then she admitted,

"I had thought perhaps I would never find the intimacy with you that we shared before I was with child."

Melbourne appeared beside her and snuggled her up against his body. He shrugged a little and reminded her,

"When you and I started out, Ma'am, I was already an old man who had endured fatherhood before. Intimate life does not dissolve with the birth of a child."

"I see that now," Victoria nodded. She raised her eyes to his green ones and asked, "And you still want me? Even now?"

"More now than ever," he replied, stroking at her back and kissing her forehead. "Get some rest, Ma'am. You've an early meeting tomorrow with Sir Robert regarding Canada."

"Oh, yes." Victoria yawned broadly. "I'd forgotten. Thank you for reminding me. Goodnight, Lord M."

He was quiet for a moment, and then he finally whispered, "Goodnight, Ma'am."

* * *

 

**Author's Note: So, history tells us that Lord M liked spanking, but he and Victoria have not explored it thus far. And we definitely know that motherhood did not come instinctively to Victoria. I also think it's a common concern (especially among women) that their partner will no longer find them desirable after childbirth. So this chapter was just exploring a lot of those feelings! When we move on, we'll explore more politics, see both Lord M and Victoria as maturing parents, and explore some of the jealousies that Victoria experiences when she learns more details of Melbourne's past (gasp!). Thanks for reading, and PLEASE do leave a comment if you get a quick moment.**


	27. Chapter 27

_My dearest William,_

_My brother brings me news of the proceedings in court, and I confess to being so wracked by my nerves that I have scarcely eaten in many days. I do not languish in false hope, and I know that the consequences of a poor outcome are dire. I shall lose everything - my children… my children, William, who are indeed my everything. You know this, and my husband does not, and he wonders why my love for him has faded so dramatically._

_You will lose your government and likely your entire political life. For that, should it come to pass, I could never make sufficient apology. I have ruined you, and you have ruined me, and even after all of this is over, we shall not even be permitted to lie in ruin together. I know well that I shall never see your eyes again. I am grateful for the miniature you have sent me. It may well be all that remains of you in my miserable existence when this has all passed._

_Still, I pray that you will be acquitted, that somehow the Tories will not topple your government. I know my own fate was sealed long ago, but yours is still open a little, and so I do pray. William, you must be nervous as I, but I beg of you to remember how fondly I have always thought of you, and what a dear and pleasant companion you were to my heart. My adoration of you shall never fade, no matter what any jury decides._

_I remain yours now and always,_

_Caroline_

Victoria felt sick as she stared at the letter. She read it again, three times over, and nearly threw up on the floor. Her hand shook like mad as she folded the letter and tucked it back into the copy of Gulliver's Travels from which it had fallen. She'd only been searching for a good book to read on this frigid, rainy afternoon. Melbourne had books she'd never seen before, and she'd selected Swift out of sheer curiosity. But a letter had come slipping out from inside the cover, and Victoria had not been able to keep herself from reading it.

She'd known, of course, that Melbourne had been taken to court for criminal conversation with a married woman. She'd known, too, that despite his acquittal, there were still murmurs that the former Prime Minister had been guilty. And she knew what Melbourne had told her - that he'd never put a hand on his good friend Caroline Norton. Yet, here was a letter from the woman, carefully preserved and hidden inside a book, talking of lying in ruin together and of adoration. Caroline Norton had signed the letter so intimately, and Victoria felt tears rush to her eyes as she shut the book and shoved it back into the shelf.

"Ah. There you are, Ma'am. I was wondering if you might… Victoria?"

She finally turned to see Melbourne standing in the doorway, looking very much as though he were dressed to go somewhere.

"Where are you off to?" Victoria asked, her voice rough from the tears. He ignored her question and stepped into the library, shaking his head.

"What's the matter?"

"I… erm… I was reading Swift, you see," Victoria said, and suddenly Melbourne's mouth tightened. He nodded once and said gently,

"It was the last letter I received from her. Seemed wrong to burn it at the time, but there is a fire just there if you wish to throw it in."

Victoria let out a shaking little sigh and demanded quietly, "When they acquitted you… were they correct in doing so? Or did you escape judgment from something you really did? I must have the truth, William."

His face shifted again; she so rarely used his given name. He sighed and fingered the brim of the top hat in his hand. He set the hat down on the shelf lining the perimeter of the room, and he stepped right up to where Victoria stood. He pulled out the copy of Gulliver's Travels and gently pulled out the letter. He read over it, looking very sad, and he told Victoria,

"She truly was nothing more than a friend. A very good friend, one who listened to my endless ranting. Patient. Kind. A very fine mother. And she did try. I admit it. On more than one occasion, she pushed for something physical. But I looked at her family, at the children she adored so dearly, and I could not bring myself to cross that line. Still, we were often alone. Our conversations were usually private. And so the optics were very bad, you see. People thought the same of Caroline Norton and me as they did of the two of us."

"You mean… when you were just my Prime Minister? In those days before I confessed myself to you at Brocket Hall?" Victoria's stomach churned again, and Melbourne nodded slowly.

"I do not pretend to have lived a spotless life, Victoria. I am stained indeed by all manner of sin. But, then, who among us can call themselves clean? It is a rare few. I hope you know that my life now is entirely devoted to you and to our son. The past is… gone. Whatever it was. All that matters is here and now."

He crumpled the letter in his hand then, and Victoria gasped quietly as he strode briskly to the fireplace and tossed the paper in. He'd acted quickly so that he could not stop himself, she knew. As he turned back toward her, she whispered,

"You did not need to do that."

"I think I did, actually," Melbourne said. Then he picked his top hat up off the shelf and said, "I thought I might go work in the greenhouses at Brocket Hall this afternoon, if that's all right with you."

"Of course," Victoria whispered. "Shall I see you at dinner?"

"So long as I can tear myself away from my plants, Ma'am." Melbourne looked very serious then, and he said gently, "There are four things in this world that I love, that I truly love. There is you, of course, and my love for you swallows just about everything else. But then there is William, and I adore him with the fire of a thousands suns. Then, trailing far behind, there is the British Constitution and... my plants. Every now and then, each one of those things requires my attention. Right this moment, it is the plants. Tonight, it will be you, and I do promise to give you all manner of attention."

He descended to one knee and took Victoria's right hand, kissing it carefully before he rose. He bent and touched his lips to hers, and Victoria flicked her eyes to the fireplace, where the letter from Caroline Norton had curled and blackened. She turned her gaze back up to Melbourne and nodded.

"There is no need for you to rush back for dinner," she told him. "Take all the time you need with your plants, Lord M."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Melbourne kissed Victoria's forehead and bowed a little before turning to go.

**Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter, but this was a bit of a standalone interlude. Next chapter will be up soon! I am trying to figure out whether to keep moving on with the plot or to give them a nice, detailed, hard-earned lemon. If you have a strong preference one way or the other, let me know. :) Thanks as always for reading and for any feedback.**


	28. Chapter 28

"Well, I think it's lovely," Victoria said, smiling at Edward Barnard and his silversmith sons. The man looked as though an enormous weight had been suddenly lifted from his chest, and he said in a dry voice,

"How very pleased I am, Your Majesty, that you like it."

"And what do you think, William?" Victoria turned her son around as if showing him the silver-gilt font she'd had commissioned for his Christening. The little prince sneezed, and Victoria laughed as she said, "I suppose that means he likes it, too. What do you think, Archbishop??

Howley, the aged and bent Archbishop of Canterbury, smiled warmly at the elegant silver font.

"It will serve well, Majesty," he said, "and may make a fine heirloom for the royal family, if I may say."

"What a marvelous idea," Victoria said. William squirmed in her arms, so she propped him up a bit against her shoulder. "His Royal Highness has gone to Brocket Hall today, but I shall certainly inform him that the font is to our liking. Thank you, Mr Barnard. You and your sons have done marvelously."

She nodded her dismissal, and the silversmiths bowed before backing slowly from the drawing room. That left Victoria alone with her son and the archbishop, who asked,

"Have you decided upon godparents, Ma'am?"

"Oh, yes. It will be the Dowager Queen Adelaide, my Uncle Sussex, my mother, and my Uncle Leopold. We were going to have more, but my husband suggests that perhaps a pared-down list might cause fewer bruised egos."

"How very wise of him," the archbishop said with a little laugh. Victoria looked down into Baby William's face and watched him blink slowly. She smiled and noted,

"He's moments from sleep. He always blinks so very slowly just before he drifts off."

"I hear he sleeps well, Ma'am," the archbishop said, "and that he hears prayers nightly from Lady Portman."

"She does a fine job seeing after him," Victoria smiled. She curled William up against her and breathed in the clean smell of him. She hummed out a happy little sigh and told the archbishop,

"He shall be Christened in a gown made especially for him by silk-workers and lace-makers here in England. We wish to show our support to British industry. Another of my husband's suggestions."

"If I may say so, Ma'am, he does bring a fresh approach of realism to the monarchy. He is so beloved by the people, as are you. I know His Little Highness will be, too."

Victoria smiled at the word play, and she kissed Baby William's head as his eyelids fell heavily shut. She turned to see Emma Portman waiting in the corner, and Victoria nodded silently. She passed William over to Emma and whispered,

"Send a note if he wakes after dinner. Otherwise, I shan't disturb him again until the morning."

"Yes, Ma'am." Emma curtsied perfectly, even with little William in her arms, and Victoria smiled as she watched the two of them go. Then she turned her attention to the archbishop and said,

"Please do let me know if there is anything else required of me before the Christening. My Uncle Leopold should be arriving next week, so he will not require a proxy."

"I believe all is in order, Ma'am," said the archbishop. He bowed respectfully, and once he'd gone, Victoria was left alone. She dragged her finger around the rim of the silver font, and her lips curled up into a peaceful little smile.

* * *

 

Victoria squirmed in her bed, staring at the clock in disbelief. It was nearly midnight, and still Lord M had not come back. How long, she wondered, could it possibly take to attend to flowers and greenery?

She was impatient because she wanted him. Even after her discovery of Caroline Norton's letter that afternoon, and perhaps in part because of the letter, she desperately wanted her husband. She wanted to feel his hands on her, his manhood inside of her, his mouth on hers. She wanted him so badly that it ached, so badly that she was utterly wet between her legs.

Finally she reached a hand beneath the blankets and pulled up a little on her nightgown. She shut her eyes and thought of him, of the taste and feel of him, and she began to move her fingers. She worked slowly at first, dragging her fingers back and forth through her sopping wet folds. She dipped two of her fingers into her entrance, pressing hard on her nub with her thumb, and she gasped at the feeling. She shut her eyes more tightly and drove her head back against her pillow, whispering into her bedroom,

"Oh, Lord M… please… Lord M."

"Please what?"

She gasped and her eyes sprang open at the sound of his voice. He'd appeared beside her like a ghost, and as he untied his robe and shucked it, he smirked with apparent self-satisfaction.

"Did you miss me so badly as that?" His voice was teasing, and Victoria felt her cheeks go hot.

"Yes," she answered. "As it happens, William, I did miss you that badly."

He reached beneath the blanket and pulled her hand away from her body. He tipped his head and murmured,

"Please. Allow me."

She melted like wax at that, at the way his eyes burned through the moonlight from where he stood beside the bed. His fingers replaced hers then, and his lips fell open when he felt how wet she'd become. He swallowed hard and asked,

"What sort of thoughts brought this state of being upon you, Ma'am?"

"Thoughts of you, of course," she answered, arching her back a little as he pushed one finger inside of her. He added a second, and then Victoria gasped, for he'd pushed a third in. He stretched her entrance with his fingers, and she felt so full that she could hardly stand it. She bucked her hips up hard against his hand, and Melbourne seemed surprised by how eager she was. He started to pump his three fingers and to work his thumb on her, and Victoria cried out so loudly she worried someone would come to see what was wrong.

"Hush, Victoria," Melbourne murmured, his own cheeks flushing dark. But she couldn't stay quiet, not with his hand buried inside of her like it was. He was relentless in pounding his fingers in and out, and his thumb worked so steadily that Victoria knew she would fall quickly. She shut her eyes and just absorbed the feel of it, of his hand dominating her so completely. Her own fingers tightened on the sheets, pulling desperately at them as she struggled to breathe evenly. After a long while, she opened her eyes and saw Melbourne panting through clenched teeth. For some reason, the sight of him like that threw her straight over the phantom edge. She clenched around his fingers, her ears ringing and spots appearing before her eyes.

"Lord M," she moaned wantonly, her whole body going slack on the bed. As he slowly pulled his hand out of her body, he stared at his drenched fingers and seemed very aroused by the sight. Suddenly he whispered,

"I want to taste you. Please, Victoria."

She was surprised by the way he seemed to be begging her, so she just nodded silently and reckoned she would let him do as he pleased. But his rickety breath quickened, and he told her softly,

"I want… to taste you… with you atop me."

"How does that work, exactly?" Victoria was almost frightened by how aroused he seemed, and he didn't seem to be entirely in control of himself as he whispered,

"Let me lie down and I will show you."

She slid to the side, making room for him, and he climbed up quickly. Victoria caught a glimpse of the tenting in his nightshirt, and she realised he must be aching for attention there, for something to assuage the way his member was so hard. He saw her staring at it, and he mumbled,

"If I attend to it now, it'll all be over too quickly. I will wait."

"I do envy your patience, Lord M," Victoria scoffed. She watched as he lay down, and she made a move to straddle him like she often did. But he shook his head and started peeling off her nightgown, and he told her,

"Up here. By… my face."

Victoria was very surprised by such a suggestion, but nevertheless she tossed her nightgown aside and crawled up his body. She held onto the wooden headboard to steady herself, and she let out a yelp of surprise when he seized her hips and dragged her down against his mouth.

"Lord M!" Victoria could say nothing else then, for his entire mouth had enveloped her. He was stroking her back and forth, the little bit of scruff on his chin scratching her in a peculiar and wonderful way. His tongue delved up into her body, and then he suckled hard on her nub. He groaned loudly as he moved her body, and Victoria tightened her grip on the headboard. She was dizzy then, from her own fresh arousal and from amazement at what he was doing. His hand slapped lightly at her backside as his mouth massaged her, and Victoria moaned desperately,

"Again. Do it again."

He did, harder this time, and then a low, wordless plea worked its way from his lips to her womanhood. It vibrated there, making Victoria shudder with pleasure. His right hand left her hip, and as Victoria glanced over her shoulder, she could see that he was stroking himself slowly.

"Lord M, I'm going to… it's going to happen again, I think." She was whispering against the wall, holding the headboard for dear life, unable to think clearly. All she could feel was the way his tongue and lips were moving against her, the way he was pulling and pushing at her, and then she came again. She threw her head back and helplessly drove her hips down against his mouth. Melbourne's voice vibrated on her again, and when Victoria looked over her shoulder once more, she could see that his seed was landing in puddles all over his nightshirt. He would need a fresh one, Victoria thought distantly.

At some point, it must have ended, though she would not have been able to isolate the moment. She wound up naked beside him, curled against his own nude body, from which he'd stripped his soiled nightshirt. He was a little sweaty, and Victoria knew better than to kiss him, so she whispered,

"You need a bath, Lord M."

"I find I do not much care," he said quietly. He stared down at Victoria and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I do not often enough tell you how catastrophically beautiful you are, Ma'am."

She smiled weakly and shook her head. "It is a pleasant little lie you tell me, and you do say it often."

"I have been known tell an untruth when it suits my needs," he admitted, "but in this, I am anything but a liar. You are beautiful, Victoria, and I do love you. I only wish there existed stronger verbiage; it all feels so insufficient. Beautiful. Love. It is not enough, not for you, not from me."

"Oh, Lord M." Victoria felt her eyes well a little, thinking back to the letter she'd found earlier in the day. She had been wrong to feel so suspicious, so jealous. This was her Lord M, and if there were a more devoted husband in all of England, Victoria would pay to see him. She reached for his hand and threaded her fingers through his, and she repeated something he'd told her long ago.

"The sheets feel best against bare flesh, I think."

"Then let us eschew nightclothes," Melbourne replied. "Goodnight, Ma'am."

She shut her eyes, breathing in the warm scent and feel of his chest. "Goodnight, Lord M."

**Author's Note: Whew! I thought after all the stroke and baby drama, these two were in desperate need of a real, serious lemon. Mwah hahaha. Plot to continue as planned in the next chapter. Thanks for reading. Please leave a review if you get a quick moment. This will be the last update for today. Promise! :)**


	29. Chapter 29

Victoria sighed as she strolled through the corridors of her private apartments. It had been a long and taxing day; Melbourne had not been kidding that time he'd said that spring was hell for a Prime Minister. Sir Robert Peel had been in a dismal, foul mood during his meeting with Victoria, and she thought she might lift her spirits with a visit to Baby William.

The door from his nursery to the corridor was open, and inside, Victoria could see that the wet nurse, Anne Fulbright, had William at her breast. She did not wish to disturb the boy's eating, but she figured that he would be through soon enough. Victoria stood patiently outside the door, determined to wait and see her son.

"I must say, it makes me so pleased to see His Royal Highness happy again." That was the voice of Emma Portman, and Victoria peered curiously around the corner into the nursery. Emma appeared to be folding some of Baby William's clothing into his wardrobe, and she said to the wet nurse, "There was a time when my husband worried dearly for his friend."

"For his safety, you mean?" Anne, the wet nurse, asked. Emma shook her head.

"It wasn't as though his reputation could have sunk much lower at the time, but it was altogether too much for any one man to bear. His wife was off with Byron, and the papers used his surname, Lamb, to its most hateful extent. He was ridiculed, day in and day out. He was left with their boy, who was never right in his mind and required almost constant care. William… that is to say, His Royal Highness… well, apparently there was an endless stream of noble women coming and going from wherever he stayed."

"Can you blame him?" Anne Fulbright asked, adjusting Baby William to move to the other breast. "That awful woman wrote it all into a novel, and then they only mocked him the harder. She utterly abandoned him; can you blame him for taking a woman or two?"

"I am made to understand there was a least a dozen of them," Emma said gravely. "He is lucky they stayed silent. I suppose they had their own lives to protect."

Victoria shook where she stood. She could take it no longer. She ploughed straight into the nursery and cleared her throat, and Emma Portman whirled round in horror. The moment Emma dipped into a deep, long-held curtsy, it was evident on her face that she knew she'd been caught. Her cheeks went crimson, and she murmured in a trembling voice,

"Your Majesty."

"No, it is quite all right, Emma." Victoria sniffed a little where she stood. "What's past is past. Though I do not care for such discussion around my son in future."

"Of course, Ma'am. My apologies, Ma'am." Emma kept her head bowed, and Victoria strode over to where Anne Fulbright fed Baby William, looking terrified. She had not risen because the prince was at her breast, so Victoria was actually a little above her. She reached to pat William's back, and she asked,

"How much longer will he eat?"

"He has mostly finished now, Ma'am," Anne said, her voice laced with uncertainty. "I can finish him off in a while."

"Thank you." Victoria held her arms out expectantly, and Emma quickly placed a cotton and lace cloth upon Victoria's left shoulder. Victoria took William away from Anne as soon as she could, and she whispered, "You may both wait in the corridor."

"Yes, Ma'am." Anne stood, adjusting the neckline of her loosened dress. Victoria tucked William up against her shoulder and began patting him between his shoulder blades. Almost at once, he let out a deep belch, and Victoria murmured,

"What a good little creature you are. So little and already so well-behaved. Better behaved, it seems, than your father once was."

She walked over to the rocking chair and slowly sat, holding William up before her and encouraging him to bounce a little on his rickety legs. Suddenly he broke into a very wide, gummy grin, and Victoria could not help but smile back at him.

"Do you know your Papa calls you?" she asked, and in response, she was greeted with a mouthful of spit bubbles. Victoria nodded firmly and said, "He calls you his Little Lamb. Isn't that funny, William? Because his surname was Lamb. So you are his… you are our…"

She stopped then, her hands shaking wildly around her son's torso. She brought him back against her shoulder and held him close, breathing in the soapy scent of him.

"You are our everything, William," she whispered, and he just burped again in response. Victoria tried not to laugh, tried not to cry… she just sat there holding him until he was very evidently hungry again, and then she handed him over to the wet nurse.

* * *

 

"Close the door behind you!"

Victoria walked slowly into Melbourne's greenhouse at Brocket Hall, where he'd spent nearly the entire day. She strode slowly through plants and flowers she would never recognise, and she called out,

"It's only me."

"Come to tell me how awful Sir Robert Peel was today?" Melbourne was grinning crookedly when he turned round from an orchid he was playing with, but his grin vanished as soon as he saw that Victoria had been crying. Surely her face was red and puffy, she thought. Surely he could read in her eyes that she was distraught.

"Whatever's happened?" Melbourne demanded, setting down his tweezers and walking quickly over to her. It was much hotter in the greenhouse than it was outside, so Victoria untied her cape and pulled it off. She sat on a wrought iron bench and waited for Melbourne to sit beside her. He took her cheek in his hand and shook his head confusedly. "What's the matter, Victoria?"

"How many were there?" She flicked her eyes to him, and he looked more confused than ever. Victoria specified, "When your wife was off with Byron, you had women. Many women, it would seem. How many were there?"

"Victoria." Melbourne pushed his sleeves up a bit further, which was maddening, because it was attractive. Victoria could not afford to be attracted to him just now. He shrugged a little and told her,

"If I am honest, Ma'am, I do not remember much besides an inordinate amount of wine and whiskey and women who meant nothing to me. It was important, you see, that they meant nothing to me, because I very clearly meant nothing to Caro."

"So you engaged in… in all the intimate things you do with me… with women who meant nothing?" Victoria began to cry again, though she'd thought herself out of tears entirely. Melbourne huffed a breath that seemed at once frustrated and patient, and he said quietly,

"It was… before you were even born, Ma'am. A lifetime ago. I am a different man now, thanks in part to you."

"Emma seems to remember it very well," Victoria said accusingly, but Melbourne shot back,

"Emma Portman is receiving information from her husband. She was little more than a child at the time herself."

"Was she one of them? One of your women?" Victoria demanded, and now Melbourne looked scandalised.

"No," he whispered. Then he reached for Victoria's hand, and though she tried to pull away, he started to stroke the back of her crocheted glove. "Victoria, you must understand that I lived an entire lifetime before you took your first breath. All those awful newspaper cartoons, the conversations people had at parties in my absence. The novel my wife wrote that only ridiculed me further. My time in the military, the beginning of my political career… Byron. Caroline. Augustus. My daughter. All of that, Victoria, came and went before you ever opened your eyes. But you will blame me for it all now, will you?"

"How am I meant to feel?" Victoria snapped, snatching her hand back from him. "To know that you entertained so very many women, that you knew them the way you knew me, that -"

"That is entirely unfair. The things I feel for you - physically and otherwise - are things I have never felt for anyone else. That includes Caroline."

"Caroline Lamb or Caroline Norton?" Victoria sneered, and suddenly Melbourne flew up from the bench.

"Have you come only to torment me with the myriad mistakes I have made, or shall I show you some of my flowers?"

"Answer me this," Victoria said, glaring up at him. "Have you got any other women now?"

The pain in his green eyes then was so palpable that it struck Victoria to her core. He shook his head and whispered,

"No. I could never do that you, Victoria. And I've no desire for anyone besides you. I never could want anyone else, now that I've had you, you know. But what you can not understand, and I am glad for it, is what it means to be destroyed by someone you adore. To have your heart torn out and stomped upon, spit upon, laughed at, and devoured by the only person you have loved to that point. You will never know that pain, Victoria, because I would never harm you like that… the way I was harmed."

"It seems to me that you are trying to excuse yourself from taking so many women during that time," Victoria said primly, and Melbourne sighed,

"There is a significant difference, Ma'am, between an excuse and an explanation."

He walked away from her then, going back to his orchid and picking up his tweezers. Victoria stood and started to put her cape back on.

"You are very right," she informed him, but he did not turn round. "I could never begin to understand the pain you endured, nor what she did to you. And I could never begin to understand what you did afterward. So long as I have your word, your solemn promise, that you will be true to me, I will leave you to your orchids."

Melbourne put his tweezers down again and turned slowly.

"Victoria," he whispered, "You will be my last love. You will be the last woman I touch. That is my vow. That is my solemn promise."

"Then I shall return to the palace, and I shall see you when you've finished with your flowers," Victoria said, her voice cracking a little. Melbourne glanced around and rolled down his sleeves.

"I think they will do just fine without me for the rest of the evening," he said. "Now. On the carriage ride back, I expect all manner of complaint about Sir Robert Peel."

**Author's Note: I do think that Victoria is just immature enough to react angrily to things from Lord M's past that she can't understand and that he can't change. But will she be able to move past her jealousy? Oh, and for those who have been longing for a good waltz, be aware - there's a ball coming up. Woo hoo!**


	30. Chapter 30

"How is he?" Victoria glanced up as Melbourne came into her drawing room. He'd just been to visit Baby William, she knew, and his face seemed happier than usual.

"Oh, he's perfectly fine aside from the way he spit up all over me," Melbourne smiled. Victoria gasped a little, clapping a hand to her mouth, and she laughed,

"You poor man."

"It was only a coat," he said. "It will be cleaned, and I changed into another. I was scolded most mercilessly by Emma Portman for not using a cloth on my shoulder. I informed her that I had never before used one, and then the Little Lamb proceeded to empty his stomach straight onto my green wool coat."

Victoria giggled as Melbourne came to sit opposite her. He looked so genuinely happy then, and he said wistfully,

"He wants so badly to walk, poor creature. He's nowhere near it."

"It is darling, isn't it?" Victoria asked. "The way he holds your finger and reaches, reaches… and then -"

"Plops right over onto his bottom. Yes, it is endearing." Melbourne's green eyes seemed very warm then, and Victoria told him,

"I am so very glad that we have him, Lord M. How silly I was to be so afraid."

"Your fears were hardly irrational," Melbourne assured her, "and you needn't do it again any time soon. What are you reading? _Canada in the War of 1812_. That sounds very dull."

"It is," Victoria sighed, setting down the book, "but there has been so much talk of Canada lately, and I feel I am woefully undereducated on the matter. Lehzen hardly ever mentioned that Canada even existed; we certainly did not study its history or culture at any length. And so I am simply trying to understand how Canada came to the position it currently occupies in all my meetings."

"Well," Melbourne said, leaning back a little in his chair, "You don't need a history book. I was in Parliament then."

"Oh, yes. I suppose you must remember," Victoria said, and Melbourne's eyes flicked up darkly.

"Yes, I suppose I must, old beast that I am."

Victoria frowned. "That isn't what I -"

"The trouble with Canada," Melbourne carried on, "is that the mosaic of inhabitants she possesses makes her a particularly troublesome place to govern. The Americans knew this, but they reckoned they could march right into Canada and seize it whilst we were busy fighting Napoleon."

"That sounds like hubris," Victoria protested. "Canada is a very large place."

"Large, but sparsely populated," Melbourne pointed out. "There are Indians there, of course. Aboriginal peoples. And then there are the descendants of the Loyalist Americans who fled to Canada during the American Revolution. They are largely Anglican and loyal to the Crown. Then there are those who only went to Canada for land grants, and there are English-speaking Catholics, and there are French Canadians who would much rather have been under the rule of Napoleon than an English king."

"That does sound complicated," Victoria agreed. Melbourne leaned forward in his chair and put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together as he pondered,

"People here at home were so unhappy with the wartime taxations, but we were stretched as thin as a nation might be. War on the Continent. War all over America. Trying to defend Canada. There were even some who said we ought to just let America take it. But the Americans grossly overestimated the support they had in Canada."

"Why?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne shrugged a bit.

"England is an inherently Protestant place, of course, but America had proven to be far more virulently anti-Catholic than Britain. The French Canadians didn't even want the Americans there, and they couldn't hate Britain more if they set their minds to it. And we had people at home screaming at us to resume trade with America. So the war ended status quo ante bellum - just as it had been before the war. It was a pointless endeavour, all of it. But the inherent volatility of Canada was never resolved, and it is still a difficult place. Vast, with few people, all of them seeming to carry different loyalties. And that is why Sir Robert Peel mentions Canada to you on a daily basis, Ma'am."

Victoria set her book on the table beside her and smiled. He was often irritated, she knew, by his age. The chasm of years between them had been a source of friction. But finally, for once, the life he'd led before her birth was proving helpful.

"Thank you for the history lesson, Lord M," Victoria said. "I feel as though I am quite ready for my next meeting."

"And are you ready for the Christmas ball tonight?" Melbourne asked. He searched her face for a moment and noted, "It has been such a very long time since last we danced."

"So it has," Victoria said. She reached for his hand and told him, "I have missed being in your arms like that."

"Well, if anyone else means to dance with you, they shall have to wrestle you away from me," Melbourne joked, and Victoria could not help but laugh at that.

* * *

 

"I think the golden tiara with the rubies, don't you, Skerrett?" Victoria held up two small crowns before her, and Miss Skerrett commented,

"With your deep green dress, Ma'am, I think the rubies are quite festive."

"Indeed." Victoria stared in the mirror at the way Skerrett was arranging her hair into a knot of complex braids. The girl's hands moved so quickly, and Victoria asked, "Where did you learn to do hair so well?"

"Oh, the girls and I at my school, Ma'am," Skerrett said, her cheeks going a little pink, "we all used to try out new styles on one another. We'd never be fancy ladies, we knew, but we could have beautiful hair."

Victoria smiled at that. "Well, look how your skills have paid off."

"I am grateful for it, Majesty," Skerrett said. She picked up the golden tiara and arranged it atop Victoria's head, pinning the sides down and asking, "Would you like the ruby pendant and earrings to match, Ma'am?"

"I do like your style, Skerrett," Victoria grinned. She watched as Skerrett clasped her teardrop ruby pendant around her neck, and she put her own earrings in. She sighed and said into the mirror, "There. I only hope I am enough for him tonight."

"I'm sure His Royal Highness will find you very beautiful, Ma'am," Skerrett said. Victoria thanked her and gave Dash a goodnight rub on the head. He'd been acting sluggish as of late, Victoria noticed. She hoped nothing was very wrong with him. Even as she left the dressing room, Dash did not seem to notice, and he always fretted when Victoria left him. Frowning from that observation, Victoria went out into the corridor and found her ladies waiting. Emma Portman was there, Baby William cradled against her hip. Victoria took William for a moment and murmured,

"Sweet Little Lamb. You sleep well whilst Mama and Papa dance."

He grabbed at her earring then, eliciting a gasp of shock from Lady Frances Cowper, but Victoria just laughed. She gently pulled the earring from William's hand and studied the eyes that were quickly turning green.

"If you want Mama's attention, dear thing, you must only holler; there is no need for stealing jewelry. Now you go with dear Lady Emma. Goodnight, Little Lamb." She kissed his forehead and then each cheek, and when she passed him over to Emma Portman, he reached back for her.

"The little prince seems very attached to you, Ma'am," noted Wilhelmina as they walked. "My mother always said it is healthy for a child to cling to his mother."

"Well, I hope your mother was right," Victoria said, "and I hope that he is as attached as he seems. I admit to being very attached to him, and my husband is probably even more a victim of the child's charms."

They'd come to the ballroom then, and Victoria's ladies filed in before her. She was announced formally, and as she swept into the room, everyone descended into bows and curtsies. Melbourne was already there, and he came walking briskly over as soon as the music started up again.

"It is a waltz, Ma'am," he said simply, holding out his hand. Victoria grinned and put her fingers into his palm, letting him lead her to the dance floor.

"You told them to play a waltz as soon as I arrived," she guessed, and he shrugged.

"Am I not permitted to make requests of the orchestra?"

His hands felt so good on her then that she could not answer. All she could do was stare up into his eyes, and she finally whispered,

"His eyes will be like yours. They're going green."

"Yes, I noticed that today," Melbourne replied. "Poor Little Lamb. I thought for certain he'd have eyes like yours. Blue as the sky and deep as the sea. I do so adore your eyes, Victoria. But, then, I adore every last scrap of you."

"Do you wish I were taller?" Victoria asked impulsively, and Melbourne scoffed and shook his head. He moved them elegantly around the dance floor, and he told her,

"I am a full head taller than you. More than that, actually. Thanks to my sizeable male ego, I find I quite like the size differential."

"You do?" Victoria tightened her hands on him, and she said, "I always feel like a person in miniature beside you."

"I do not mind, and neither should you," Melbourne insisted. Then his face went serious, and he asked quietly, "Do you wish I were younger?"

"No," Victoria said, and she meant it. His age and his prior experiences had caused all manner of conflict between them before, but now Victoria found herself saying, "If you were still very young, Lord M, then you might still be a silly little boy. And have no use for a silly little boy. I need a husband who can teach me whilst he loves me."

"And the grey hairs?" Melbourne prompted her, a crooked little smile coming over his lips. "Do they not repel you?"

"My hair will go grey someday, too," Victoria said firmly. "Perhaps by then I will know half as much as you know now."

"You know more than you think," Melbourne said, squeezing his fingers a little at Victoria's back. For the rest of the waltz, she just stared into his eyes, his perfect green eyes, and she let him guide her.


	31. Chapter 31

"How long, do you suppose, before his hair is long enough for you to style, Skerrett?" Victoria grinned at her own joke, and in the mirror, Skerrett laughed. Baby William was bouncing merrily on Victoria's lap, and she stroked at his silky curls as she murmured, "No, Little Lamb. You must keep this baby hair forever. It will break my heart when you grow into a man."

"Mmmm…" William looked at himself in the mirror, and little spit bubbles eked out of his mouth as he hummed, "Mmmm!"

"Oh, there, Ma'am! He's just about to say Mama, isn't he?" Skerrett seemed awfully excited, and Victoria laughed a bit as she teased the baby,

"Oh, go on then, Little Lamb. Mama! Can you say it? Mama!"

"Mmmm! Mmmm…ma! Ma ma ma ma ma." William looked quite pleased with himself, and Victoria squealed with delight. Skerrett clapped her hands together, and Victoria turned round to face the dresser.

"Well, there you have it, Miss Skerrett. You heard it with your own ears; the little prince spoke directly to his Mama."

"So he did, Ma'am," Skerrett said, her grin going wider than ever. She returned to her task of weaving Victoria's braids atop her head, and she said quietly, "You'll do marvelously today, Ma'am. I'm sure all those stodgy old men in Parliament will quiver with fear."

"Oh, Skerrett." Victoria laughed again as she played with little William's fingers. Then she glanced around and asked, "Wherever has Dash gone? He always follows me in here."

"I… erm… I saw him in the bedroom, Ma'am," Skerrett said cautiously, "lying on the rug. He didn't look too eager to move, Ma'am."

"Poor Dash. He has slowed down considerably as of late," Victoria sighed. "He's not the little puppy he once was."

Skerrett carefully placed Victoria's round diamond crown atop her head, and she said warmly,

"I'm sure Dash will be glad to see you when you get back from Parliament, Ma'am," Skerrett said. Victoria nodded and rose, murmuring her thanks to Skerrett as she made her way out of the dressing room. Emma Portman was waiting outside, and Victoria kissed William's head before handing him over.

"Now, you be good, Little Lamb," she said with false severity. "Mama must go and open the Parliament, because apparently the men can't begin shouting at one another without Mama's permission."

Emma chuckled a bit and carefully placed William on her hip.

"He'll nap soon enough, Ma'am, and then he'll eat and we'll play a bit. He'll be happy to see you when you come back."

"Him and Dash both, it would seem. Thank you, Emma. Goodbye, darling." She kissed William's head again and strode away without looking back. It always hurt to look back.

* * *

 

"My Lords and Gentlemen, measures will be submitted to you without delay on the matter of the Levant and the conflict in China. I entrust entirely to you the legislative powers to handle these and all other circumstances which may arise and inflict difficulty upon our nation. There will, too, be a great many matters of domestic concern which will be submitted henceforth to you. Before the end of the year, I trust that proposals ensuring the comfort and welfare of the poor of Great Britain will be drafted, discussed, and made law. I feel confident that you will direct all available attentions to our own people and the reclamation of their happiness. As always, My Lords and Gentlemen, I entrust with great confidence the fate of our nation to Parliament. I know that you will proceed in your duty with great care. I humbly ask of Divine Providence that your actions may be guided toward the advancement of morality, religion, and the happiness of my subjects from each and every class."

Victoria slowly rolled up the scroll upon which her opening speech had been written. She passed it to Sir Robert Peel, who accepted it, and she stood with some difficulty. The ceremonial cape was heavy, and she was quite small. When she unclasped its heavy metal binding, Melbourne arose from his chair to Victoria's left and carefully took the robe away. All those assembled for her speech bowed respectfully then, and Victoria strode confidently through the centre of the House. She had to leave, she knew; tradition meant that she came, spoke, and left.

She only realised how stiflingly overheated the House had been when she made her way out to her carriage. The January day was powerfully cold, and it felt good on Victoria's flushed cheeks. As she approached the waiting carriage, she waved to the crowd that had assembled outside the House. They called and shouted warmly at her, and then Victoria saw that Melbourne had come up beside her. He waited for the footman to open the door, and then he held his hand out and murmured,

"It is very cold, Ma'am. Perhaps we should go."

"Is something the matter, Lord M?" Victoria asked curiously. She accepted the help of his hand and ducked her head to avoid hitting her crown as she climbed into the carriage. Still he said nothing, even as he followed her inside and the footman shut the door. Suddenly Melbourne drew the white curtains shut, as if to give them privacy, and he stared across the carriage with a very serious expression.

"Did I do so badly as that?" Victoria asked in horror. He shook his head, twining his fingers together atop one knee.

"No, Ma'am. You were magnificent. You spoke with clarity and confidence. You sounded like a seasoned monarch, Ma'am. I daresay every single man in attendance was in awe of you."

His words sounded empty and hollow, and Victoria frowned deeply. She glanced at the lace-edged fabric that Melbourne had pulled over the windows, and she demanded,

"Why have you drawn the curtains? The people will not be able to see me."

"There is something that I could not tell you before your speech," Melbourne said, "for fear of ruining it entirely. And, yet, I feel I must tell you before we return to the palace. So I drew the curtains, Victoria, that you might hear this free from any prying gaze."

"But what is the matter?" Victoria asked again. "Is it you? Are you ill again?"

"No. I am quite well." Melbourne licked his lips and sighed deeply. Then a look of utter sadness crossed his green eyes, and he said, "It's Dash."

"Dash." Victoria's eyes welled at once, as if her mind was a step ahead of her heart. She shook her head firmly and whispered, "No. Skerrett said he was lying peacefully on the rug."

"When I went in there, just before we left," Melbourne said carefully, "I noticed him there, too. Then I realised… he was not moving."

"No." Victoria shook her head so wildly that her crown came tumbling off her head. She caught it and thrust it aside on the velvet seat, and she insisted in a choked voice, "No. I am not ready for him to go."

"I am sorry, Victoria," Melbourne said sincerely. "I know he meant so very much to you. I would never diminish what he was to you."

"He was my only friend until I had you," Victoria sobbed, suddenly feeling like she needed to rip off her corset to find breath. "He was my companion at Kensington. I held him in the moment they told me I was queen. He has been there… he has been… oh, my darling little Dash. Tell me, Lord M, that he will wake."

"Victoria." Melbourne carefully picked up the crown Victoria had cast aside. He moved it to his own side of the carriage, and he slid across the moving cabin to sit beside her. She curled up against his shoulder on instinct, and she cried without ceasing, his coat absorbing her tears. Melbourne just stroked at her hair and murmured,

"He might be buried at Windsor, if you wanted a monument to him."

"I would like that." Victoria wailed softly. Then she pulled at the sleeve of Melbourne's coat and whispered, "I would like my Dash to wake."

"I am very sorry," he said again. "He was a very good friend to you."

Some distant part of Victoria's mind registered that Melbourne was not mocking her, that he was speaking of Dash as if the dog had been human. Surely he had felt no fondness resembling Victoria's toward Dash, but he was nevertheless respectful of Victoria's intense pain. He just kept stroking her hair, brushing away the tears that didn't bleed into his velvet coat, and he said gently,

"Cry as much as you like, Ma'am. People cry when it hurts just to be."

Victoria raised her swollen eyes to him and shook her head a little. "Shall I walk into the palace like this? Will they all say I've gone mad, to be so distraught over a pet?"

"He was more than a pet," Melbourne said firmly, "and I will personally inform that much to anyone who dares question your grief. You shed all the tears you want for Dash, and then you hold the Little Lamb and you cry some more. And when your eyes are sapped of tears, Ma'am, we can think up some fond words to carve into stone, so that Dash will be remembered forever."

Victoria blinked, a few tears silently worming their way down her cheeks. She stared straight into Melbourne's eyes, wondering how it was that he always managed to comfort her so expertly.

"I love you," she whispered, and he nodded solemnly. He took her hand and kissed her kid glove, and he said,

"I will love you, Ma'am, until the day I die."

"Just like Dash did?' Victoria asked helplessly, and Melbourne's face was serious as he confirmed,

"Just like Dash did."

* * *

 

**Author's Note: Gahhhh. So, we all knew she had to lose Dash. At least Lord M was kind enough to let her give her important speech without the bad news. And, hey presto, the kid is sort of, vaguely saying "Mama." ;) Coming up, we're going to get some scintillating news from Saxe-Coburg… mwah hahahaha. Thanks as always for reading. If you get a very quick moment, I would LOVE to hear your thoughts. Thank you.**


	32. Chapter 32

  
Victoria stared at the place on the rug where Dash had so often relaxed whilst she tended to correspondence. She could not focus this morning, and when she glanced down at the letter she’d just signed, she realised she hadn’t even read it. She huffed a breath and wondered if it was normal to spend an entire week in a fog after the death of a beloved pet. But it was as Melbourne had said - Dash had been more than just a pet.

There was a quiet knock on the drawing room door, and before Victoria could open her mouth to grant entry, the door opened. Melbourne came striding into the room, bowing respectfully to Victoria as he made his way to her desk. She used her foot to push the chair opposite her out, and Melbourne sat.

“I came to check on you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You’ve usually finished in half this time, and it appears you have a great many more letters to tend to.”

“I find myself scattered in the mind this morning,” Victoria admitted. “I can not help but think of Dash. I need to distract myself, somehow, so that I can work properly.”

“Well. To that end.” Melbourne reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded letter. He looked suddenly amused, his green eyes twinkling a little as he said, “You’ll recall that your cousin Albert married your other cousin Victoria just a few weeks after you and I married.”

“Yes, of course,” Victoria nodded. “The poor creature; she’s only… what? Eighteen?”

“She is now, yes,” Melbourne said. “But their daughter is six months older than the Little Lamb. In any case, the Princess Victoria has just given birth again. Early, rather like you did. But, unlike you, she now has a total of four little things to command her attention.”

“What? What do you mean, Lord M?” Victoria was genuinely confused. Melbourne threw up an eyebrow and said,

“Triplets. She had triplets.”

“Three at once?” Victoria breathed. “And so soon after her first daughter. Oh, my. The poor dear. To be eighteen and have four children! The scandal!”

“Oh, there is no scandal,” Melbourne assured Victoria, still looking rather amused by it all. “I do hear that your cousin Albert thinks very highly of himself now.”

“Well, I’m sure he does, putting four children on a young woman in so short a time. But she is all right? She made it through such a birth unscathed?”

“Thank God, she did,” Melbourne nodded. “How kind of you to prioritise that concern. Apparently in Saxe-Coburg, others’ concerns are more of a financial bent.”

“Oh. Yes, even Uncle Leopold admitted that Albert’s family were poor,” Victoria said. “If he now has four children in less than two years, I imagine they’re clutching their coins rather fearfully.”

Melbourne scoffed a little and drummed his fingers on the desk.

“Still,” he said, “It would probably be right for you to express your congratulations and well wishes in a letter. If you write it now, I can have it quickly sent off for you.”

“Oh. Right.” Victoria pulled a blank sheet of her stationery from its mahogany box and set it before her. She dipped her pen into ink and then admitted, “I have no idea what to say. Shall I praise her for essentially becoming a combat veteran?”

Melbourne laughed a little. “I think perhaps you ought to tell her that you know she faces challenges and blessings and that she has your constant prayer and good intention, Ma’am.”

“That sounds nice.” Victoria scratched out a letter following Melbourne’s lead, and then she signed it and blew on the ink to dry it. She folded the letter in thirds and pushed it into an envelope, which she sealed and addressed to the unfortunate cousin who shared her name. She held the letter out to Melbourne, who took it and tapped it with a fingertip.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, and Victoria gave him a surprised little look.

“Do you?”

“You’re wondering how it is that a woman would be with child thrice over, and you’re contemplating the horror of such a thing for yourself.”

He wasn’t wrong; her mind had already begun to conjure images of babies shooting out of her like cannonballs. Victoria tightened her lips, but Melbourne assured her,

“It is a freak of nature, Ma’am, what befell your cousin. Extraordinarily rare. And, anyway, it was my understanding that you’ve no intention of birthing a child any time soon.”

“Well, I certainly haven’t been giving you many opportunities to put a child on me, have I?” Victoria felt a little embarrassed then. She’d allowed her own fear of pregnancy affect her relations with her dear Lord M. They’d only been physical a few times over the last several months, and he’d only been inside of her twice. Melbourne gave her a very understanding look, and he assured her,

“I am not a stallion at stud the way your cousin Albert seems to be. I have no urgent need of any of that, particularly when the very act instills fear in you. I could die without ever taking you again, and I would die happy so long as I had your company and conversation.”

“But I do want you,” Victoria whispered. “Very, very badly. So badly it hurts a little.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’d said that before, but now it seemed to be coming from somewhere deep in his core. He reached across Victoria’s desk and took her hand in his, and he asked carefully, “When did you stop bleeding, Victoria?”

“Yesterday,” she replied, and his face went a bit surprised. He nodded and reminded her,

“There really is a rhythm to all of this. Tonight… tonight would be a good night, if you wished it of me.”

“Yes.” Victoria turned her hand over and watched him trace circles on her palm. She swallowed hard, for the feel of his finger on her skin sent tingles up her spine and made her scalp crackle with attention. She sighed and leaned back just a little, soaking in the feel of his touch. His eyes bored into hers, and he slowly wet his lips with his tongue.

“ _I looked on you a thousand times and found myself at thirst,_ ” he murmured. “ _Whole starved and yet afraid to touch the cleanest soul on Earth._ ”

Victoria frowned and tipped her face. “Shakespeare?”

Melbourne shook his head and smiled a little. “William Lamb, Second Viscount Melbourne and Prince Consort of the United Kingdom.”

She thought back over his words as he continued to massage her palm. She realised then, perhaps for the first time ever, how completely he did love her, and suddenly she found herself pushing papers aside on her desk and leaning to be nearer to him. He kept his face steady, kept his body still, even as Victoria approached him, and so she finally begged in a cracked little whisper,

“Touch me now, Lord M.”

He nodded gravely and finally tipped his face toward hers. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She kissed him across the desk, their breaths mingling into a single gasp of want as lips touched lips. Victoria reached for his head, twining her fingers into his dark curls and drawing his tongue into her mouth with her own. He moaned, his voice low and desperate and uncontrolled. He set down the letter that Victoria had written to her overburdened German cousin, and he flew to his feet from the chair. He walked briskly to the door, and as he locked it, Victoria stared wide-eyed at him.

“What, in here?”

“Yes,” he said simply, and his face left no room for discussion on the matter. Suddenly he was striding quickly toward Victoria, pushing her by her shoulders until she was pressed against the wall near the window. He bent to kiss her again, harder this time, and Victoria said in a regretful tone,

“I wish I were taller.”

“Don’t worry; I’ve held you before and I will do it again,” Melbourne said gruffly. He dragged his hands all around the torso of Victoria’s simple woolen day dress, and he shook his head. “So many clothes. Why on Earth do you women feel possessed to wear so very many clothes?”

“I suspect they were thrust upon us one layer at a time by men afraid of their inability to control other thrusting,” Victoria replied, and Melbourne smirked down at her.

“Well, you may be very right about that,” he said. “I do not feel much in control of anything just now.”

“I want you to be in control of me, Lord M,” Victoria whispered. “Even if it’s only for a few moments.”

His green eyes flashed, and his breath came rickety through his nostrils. At the sight of him so worked up, Victoria felt herself flush wet between her legs, and she nodded her encouragement. Melbourne started yanking at her skirts, pulling up wool and cotton in endless layers until he had fistfuls of skirts.

“Hold them up,” he commanded Victoria, and she wrapped them up in her arms. Melbourne’s fingers flew to the buttons on his breeches, and his stare was intense as he pulled out his ready member. His hands went to her waist then, and suddenly she was being hoisted upward. Victoria gasped and yelped a little, wrapping her legs around Melbourne’s waist on instinct. The pouf of her many skirts put a thick layer between them, but he crushed the pillowy barrier as he leaned in for another kiss. She could feel him arranging himself between the sides of her open drawers, and she tipped her head against the wall as he pushed himself in.

She had to release her skirts and wrap her arms around his shoulders then, fearing she would have otherwise fallen. He was jerking himself hard against her, each pistoning push more vigorous than the last. She was being filled almost violently by him, and she knew that someone, somewhere, would hear echoes of the way her body was banging against the paneled wall. She did not care.

“Oh, Lord M,” Victoria whispered, and as he touched his forehead to hers, he seethed and grunted through clenched teeth.

“I love you,” he said, sounding almost as if he were in pain. He raised his green eyes, his gaze intense, and he nodded fretfully. “I love you, Victoria.”

She was nearly tearful from the intensity of it all, but she managed to murmur back,

“And I love you, Lord M.”

She was overwhelmed then by the feel of him thrusting against her, but her climax seemed just out of reach. It was too hard to climb that peak when she was being hurtled against a wall, and yet there was something so intrinsically exhilarating that she felt entirely sated by the time Melbourne finished. He came with a wordless plea against Victoria’s neck, his hips becoming erratic for a few moments until they stilled and he twitched inside of her. He took a very long moment to catch his breath, and when he finally set Victoria down, she could feel his seed leaking down the inside of her thigh. She didn’t care about that, either. She just smoothed her skirts and stared up at him, at the way his face marveled.

“ _She makes hungry where she most satisfies,_ ” Melbourne said in a little murmur, and Victoria smiled crookedly.

“Did you write that, too?”

“No, Ma’am.” He bent to press his lips to hers, fleetingly but significantly, and as he stood upright and backed away, he smirked, “That was Shakespeare.”

 

**Author’s Note: Oh, dear. I wind up needing cold showers just thinking and writing about these two. Haha. Thank you if you are still reading this far into the story! If you haven’t yet shared your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear from you. Thanks!**

 


	33. Chapter 33

"A battle was fought at Chuenpi, though we have few specifics yet about casualties or any other details, Ma'am," Sir Robert Peel was saying. Victoria frowned down at the map before her showing the Pearl River Delta. It was covered with military markings and terminology, and she could not make sense of it. She put her lips into a line, seriously wishing that Lehzen had given her a more thorough education in matters of war.

"I confess that I still do not understand why this war is happening," Victoria huffed. "Opium imports… trade controls… these seem like poor reasons to sacrifice men's lives."

Peel sighed a little and gestured to an island on the map, leaning across Victoria's desk a little as he said,

"This is Hong Kong, Ma'am. When your Plenipotentiary, Charles Elliot, meets with his Chinese counterpart, he's going to ask for it. Opium aside, that island is a good enough reason for war."

"Hong Kong." Victoria repeated the funny name. She shook her head. "Why are we so concerned with obtaining a tiny island that, frankly, appears to have nothing on it?"

"It would allow Britain to be truly represented in China, Ma'am." Peel seemed as frustrated as Victoria, and he suddenly said, "Perhaps His Royal Highness might be willing to educate you a bit more on all this. I fear I don't explain things as well as he does."

"Well, I shall speak with him." Victoria felt her cheeks go a little warm, and she said quietly, "They didn't quite prepare me to discuss war, I'm afraid, Sir Robert."

"No, Ma'am. But you can rest assured that Parliament is handling these matters of state the best we can."

"I've no doubt of that." Victoria nodded, and she glanced outside the window. "It is unseasonably warm. Perhaps I should ride out with Prince William, and we might discuss China. He is up to date on these issues?"

"I just met with him yesterday, Ma'am," Peel said, "to get some insight on unifying the Whigs and Tories as much as possibly. Unanimity in Parliament is preferably in wartime."

"I should think so. Thank you, Sir Robert. I apologise for being so very… ignorant… about all this." Victoria rose, drawing Peel to his feet. He gestured to the map and said,

"That's for you, Ma'am. I shall let you know when Charles Elliot writes again with more detail."

"And Charles Elliot is…?" Victoria furrowed her brow, recognising the name vaguely from earlier. Peel's eyebrows went up, and he said,

"He's your Plenipotentiary, Ma'am. He'll be meeting with a Chinese representative to try and draw up an agreement to end the war and get Britain as much as possible."

"Oh. Yes. Quite right. Good day, Sir Robert." Victoria knitted her hands together as Robert Peel bowed and began to back away. Then she impulsively asked, "Do you find me incompetent, Sir Robert?"

His feet stopped, and he shook his head as he said simply,

"An incompetent monarch would not accept help or advice, Ma'am. For your openness and lack of hubris, I am grateful."

Victoria smiled a little, glad she'd finally worked into a decent rapport with Robert Peel. She nodded and said again,

"Good day, Sir Robert."

He bowed once more. "Good day, Ma'am."

* * *

 

"I feel like a complete fool." Victoria stared ahead as her horse plodded down the slightly muddy path in the park. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Melbourne glance at her, and he shook his head firmly.

"You are not a fool, Victoria. The situation in China is ridiculous by any standards, and you were deliberately undereducated."

"You do think that?" She turned her face to him, and he studied her curiously. She clarified, "You think Sir John kept me stupid on purpose?"

"Stupid is not the word I would use," Melbourne said, but his face was a little sad as he told her, "I think he wanted there to be plenty of opportunities for people to claim you weren't capable of ruling. He wanted open doors for himself, so he closed doors for you. He… and, if I may say, the Duchess, as well… they seem to me to have darkened your prospects for their own selfish purposes. You could never be stupid, no matter how hard Sir John tried. But he did deprive you of a solid education, and he knew full well that you would be queen. And knowing him even as much as I do… I think he is a man of endless ambition, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything for his own self-aggrandising fantasies."

"You feel strongly about this," Victoria noted, steering her mount around a rabbit that was skittering across the path. She adjusted her hold on her reins and looked over to Melbourne again. Now he seemed a little angry, and he spoke quietly as he said,

"It is only that I know what you are capable of, and it disturbs me to know anyone was trying to stifle you."

"Sir Robert Peel is surprisingly patient with me," Victoria said. "Between his explanations and yours, I feel I have a better hold on the situation in China."

"Good," Melbourne nodded. He smirked a little then and reminded her, "I did tell you a long time ago that he was not a bad man."

"You were right. As usual." Victoria sighed and sped her horse's walk up a bit. Melbourne came up alongside her, and suddenly she felt the need for wind in her hair. She smiled at her husband and suggested, "Let us go at a trot for a while."

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a cheeky little look, then tightened his heels around his horse's ribs. The horse broke into a trot, and then a canter, and Victoria shifted in her sidesaddle as she scoffed at Melbourne's gall. She urged her own horse ownward, shifting from a walk to a trot and then a canter. She kept herself glued to the saddle, her hands locked in place on her reins as the horse floated beneath her.

She was free, all of a sudden. The prison she and Melbourne had been discussing - her life at Kensington - was a ghost of a memory as the horse moved smoothly down the path. Matters of state and even the emotional toil of motherhood was gone. It was all like the leaves fluttering beneath her horse's hooves, temporary and dry and meaningless. All that mattered was the chilly air on her face, the way her hat had blown off without her caring, the way Melbourne looked as he glanced over his shoulder to grin at her.

Breathless and tired from balancing so perfectly in her sidesaddle, Victoria pulled her horse back to a trot and then a walk, and she called up to Melbourne,

"I lost my hat!"

"Well, then, I shall fetch it for you," he yelled back, steering his cantering horse in an arc and doffing his own top hat at Victoria as he passed her. She laughed as she watched him approach her hat in the middle of the path, and she found herself holding a breath as she watched him dismount in a smooth motion, his leg kicking expertly up and around the horse's neck. He flew like a young man from his saddle, showing no sign of age at all as he bent to pick up Victoria's riding hat. He mounted again with just as much ease, tossing his leg back over the horse and quickly cantering back toward his wife. As his horse slowed, he held out her hat and bowed his head respectfully.

"Your Majesty. I believe this is yours."

"You ride like a man of twenty," Victoria informed him as she took her hat back. She put it on her head and poked the pins back in, pulling the veil neatly behind her. Melbourne gave her a crooked grin and shook his head.

"I was lifting up my Little Lamb this morning and felt the most terrible ache in my shoulders. The sort of ache that muscles begin to feel when they've spent too long on this Earth. I am not a man of twenty, Ma'am."

"It doesn't matter. There is more life in you than in anyone I've ever seen," she said. His face went a little serious then, and he murmured,

"I would say the same for you. In fact, I might consider myself something of a parasite."

"A parasite?" Victoria repeated, confused. He nodded, raising his green eyes to her.

"I think I find life, and perhaps even some last grasping hint of youth, within you. And I think I steal a bit of it for myself."

"You may have it, Lord M," Victoria said, "so long as I benefit from your vitality as I do on days like today. I would have had to send someone back out for my hat if you hadn't been here."

"Well, that wouldn't do." He smirked at her and tipped his head. "William was napping when we left. He'll be up soon enough. I think he might like to show you the way he holds onto the edges of furniture whilst he toddles about."

Victoria grinned. "That is something I would very much like to see."

They walked their horses back to the palace, talking of China and Canada and their son, and as they neared the stables, Melbourne suddenly asked,

"Do you suppose you might be willing to travel, Ma'am?"

"To travel?" She gave him a curious look, and Melbourne said carefully,

"I received a letter from your Uncle Leopold."

Victoria stopped her horse well short of the stables, and she glanced behind her as she demanded,

"You had our entire ride to bring this up, Lord M, and you are just doing so now?"

"We were discussing other matters," he said quietly. Victoria huffed in frustration, and she asked,

"Well, what did Uncle Leopold have to say to you that he could not say to me?"

"Your cousin, the Princess Victoria, is reported to be in such terrible spirits that… well, they have been afraid of late that she might try something. To harm herself. She is overwhelmed, even with the help of servants. Your cousin Albert is struggling to maintain his duties. Saxe-Coburg is financially destitute. Your Uncle Leopold writes to ask if you might consider visiting Albert and Victoria at Schloss Rosenau in Coburg. An official visit from the Queen of England to her cousins would greatly improve morale, he says, among royals and commoners alike, and would stimulate the local economy. I should say that he used the word 'beg' in his letter."

"So I am to go on a charity mission to my too-fertile cousins?" Victoria demanded. She huffed a breath and insisted, "William is too young for such travel, and I won't go without my Little Lamb."

"It would not be for long, Ma'am," Melbourne told her, "and whilst I know we would both miss him terribly, Emma would take very fine care of the Little Lamb. I think you know that. Victoria, I must tell you that I think this is an important commitment to make, to your family and to your allies. It will also show your subjects here at home that you are a compassionate queen."

Victoria let out a very long sigh and raised her eyes up to the windows of the palace. Inside, she knew, William was probably waking from his nap. Her eyes seared all of a sudden, and she said quietly,

"We would not overstay. I would not want William to forget his Mama and Papa."

"Of course not. But we ought to go, and we ought to go soon," Melbourne said. "That is my opinion."

"Your opinion is very usually right, whether or not I care for it," Victoria said morosely. "Fine. We shall go to Coburg to see Albert's swarm of offspring. Very well."

She steered her horse toward the stables then, marching him up to the attendants without another word.

**Author's Note: So this is all about to get a little Twilight Zone-y… Victoria will be going on a foreign trip with Lord M as her husband… and they'll be visiting Albert and his wife (also Victoria) and their four children. Everybody clear on that? Okay. Let's do this. Haha. Thanks as always for reading, and please do leave a comment if you get a quick moment.**


	34. Chapter 34

"How are you feeling?"

Melbourne stepped up alongside Victoria, who was staring determinedly at the horizon.

"You were right," she said, holding fast to the wooden railing on her steam yacht. "Staring at the line helps."

"Unfortunately, it wasn't an option for me the time I sailed from Ireland in a dismal storm," Melbourne said. "There was no helping it then. I'm afraid I must have filled ten buckets from my stomach. It was awful."

"When was that?" Victoria asked absently, watching the horizon as the ship rocked back and forth on the swells. For a long moment, Melbourne was silent, and so Victoria asked again, "When was that, Lord M?"

"Caro was dying," Melbourne said quietly at last. "We had not spoken in a good long while, but I came back from Ireland just before she passed."

"Oh." Victoria's stomach churned, and it wasn't from the seasickness. She swallowed hard and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Lord M."

"That was a different sea, and a different ship, and a different life," he said. "Here I have a horizon to look upon."

He did not just mean the one at the edge of the sea, Victoria thought. She sighed heavily and watched the sun descend for a while, and then she said,

"I think my stomach is steady enough for dinner."

"It will be ready for you at six," Melbourne said, taking out his pocket watch and glancing at it. "That's in a half hour."

"I suppose I ought to go change," Victoria huffed. "It wouldn't do for the queen of England to wear a day dress to dinner."

"No, that wouldn't do one bit, would it?" Melbourne smiled a little at her, and then suddenly he reached up to put his hand between her shoulder blades. Victoria turned to look at him, the chill of the late winter wind giving way to an abrupt sensation of warmth. His green eyes studied her face for a moment, and he told her,

"You are beautiful on the sea. Like a painting."

"Lord M." She wanted him badly then, and, as if he'd read her mind, he said over the sound of the wind,

"After dinner… may I have you then?"

"Of course," Victoria nodded.

Dinner was a simple meal of soup and bread, roast beef with carrot and potato, and a vanilla cake. Victoria somehow managed to down three full glasses of red wine, and she and Melbourne mostly discussed little William throughout the meal. Perhaps that was why she drank so much, she thought as she stood and felt the little dining room spinning around her. She'd been talking of her Little Lamb, and to do so made her sad enough to want wine. Now Melbourne came up beside her, giving her a knowing look as he said,

"Between the wine and the sea, Ma'am, I hope you will allow me to help you back to the stateroom. We would not want you to fall."

Victoria's steam yacht was an elegant vessel, one large enough for her not to feel trapped, but small enough not to be outrageously extravagant. The staterooms she shared with Melbourne were a third of the size of her bedroom, washing room, and dressing room at Buckingham Palace, so all the furniture felt like it had been stuffed into a very small space. Poor Skerrett properly struggled to help Victoria out of her dinner dress and into her nightgown. Victoria limited herself to bathing with a rag, Castile soap, and water, and she had Skerrett put her hair into a thick braid down her back. Then she made her way into the short-ceilinged bedroom and climbed up into the bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling as though she might drift off to sleep from the wine and the swaying of the ship.

Melbourne got undressed and into his nightshirt at a wardrobe in the bedroom, and then he joined Victoria on the bed.

"The timing is not at all ideal," she confessed. "I stopped bleeding ten days ago."

"Perhaps I might just touch you," he suggested, and Victoria turned to stare at him.

"Don't you want your satisfaction?"

"I think I'll find it somehow," he told her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently, and Victoria tasted the last remnants of wine on him. He was warm against her, which felt nice because the bedroom was rather cold. As he deepened the kiss, Victoria heard the sound of the waves they were cutting through, of the bit of wind, and it jarred her to realise again that they were in the middle of the sea. It was not an overlong voyage to Germany, but it was long enough.

"Lord M," she whispered, "I am so very glad that I married you and not my cousin Albert."

"He would have been all wrong for you, though I can not pretend to be right for you," Melbourne murmured back. He pressed his lips to hers and said, "When the idea of him was being bandied about, all I could think was that he would be too harsh for you, that he would suppress the bit of wildness inside you."

"Do you like me wild?" Victoria teased, rolling to straddle him. Melbourne grunted softly and nodded.

"I like you wild, Ma'am."

She pushed his nightshirt up a bit and nestled his cock against the front of her body. She started to rub herself against him, and Melbourne shut his eyes as she used a combination of her hand and her womanhood to stimulate him. It was almost too much from the outset; she could feel the pleasure of the rubbing go straight to her core. She swiveled her hips a bit and pumped herself against him, and she watched Melbourne's eyes roll back a bit. Victoria was so tempted to simply mount him, to just slide him into her body, but she knew better. They had William, and, at least for now, he was enough.

After long minutes of grinding herself against him, she felt everything start to go tight within her. She shut her eyes and let her head swim from the wine at dinner, let the sway of the ocean guide her movements atop her Lord M, and then she came. When she did, it was like a detonation. Everything burst, hot and white and blissful, and she cried out desperately. Melbourne caught her hands in his, and she desperately chanted,

"Lord M… Lord M…"

"Victoria." His voice was utterly choked, and he pushed a bit roughly at her waist to shove her off of his body. He didn't want her to be too close; he didn't want any chance of putting a child on her by accident. She didn't mind the rough shove. She was glad for his caution. She panted beside him and watched as his seed shot into streams all over his heaving flat stomach. It was entrancing, for some reason, to watch the manly way in which he found the peak of his pleasure. There was something intoxicating about the way his seed puddled, the way his manhood twitched in his hand, and Victoria let out a hungry little sound. Finally Melbourne turned his head to her and whispered,

"Would you mind… perhaps… fetching a wet rag?"

"Oh. Of course." Victoria scurried off the bed and scrambled through the little room, trying not to trip in the rocking space. On the wash stand, a basin of still-soapy water had been set into a hole to keep it from falling from the ship's movement. She dipped a rag into the water and wrung it out, watching the way the water moved, mimicking the ocean outside. Then she stalked back to the bed and warned Melbourne,

"It's a bit cold."

"All right," he smiled. He still hissed when she began scrubbing at his soiled stomach, when she brought the fabric all over his member, and his eyes locked onto hers.

"How wondrous you are," he whispered. "I want to look at the stars with you."

She grinned and shook her head. "It's cold outside. We'll freeze on deck."

"I will hold you," he promised her. "Put on a warm robe and a cape and come with me. Victoria…"

She wondered why he seemed to adamant about it; he was rarely insistent like this. She finally just nodded and went to put the rag into the wash basin, and she opened a dressing trunk and found her thickest, warmest velvet robe. Then she put a woolen cape on and black leather gloves, and she pulled a woolen bonnet onto her braided hair. She turned round to see that Melbourne had pulled on his heavy brocade dressing gown and velvet slippers, and she protested,

"You'll need more than that."

"No. I'll be fine." Melbourne was giving her a rather odd look then, but Victoria decided to just go along with whatever thoughts were so loud in his mind. He held out his hand to her and she took it, following him out of their stateroom past nodding guards as they traversed the corridors to the heavy deck door. Melbourne guided Victoria outside onto the deck, and then he silently climbed a flight of wrought iron stairs up to the topmost level of decking. Victoria braced herself against the cold wind and stood with him at the ship's edge, gasping a bit at what she saw.

Here, on the ocean, there was no smoke, no trees, no obstruction whatsoever. A great blanket of twinkling stars and the purplish fade of the galaxy danced across the sky. Victoria squeezed Melbourne's hand and grinned, and he said quietly,

"The stars are my very favourite part of sailing, I think."

"I can see why." Victoria just stared at the heavens, her eyes welling a bit, and finally she said,

"Tomorrow night, we shall dock in Germany. Then endless carriage riding until we reach my forlorn cousins. But I have you, Lord M."

"We shall gossip mercilessly in the carriages, and even worse in Coburg," he assured her, and when she laughed a little, he told her, "I have never had a better conversational partner than you, Ma'am, and I think we shall have much fodder for conversation."

"I love you, Lord M," Victoria said firmly. She forced her eyes away from the stars and then saw them reflected in his bright eyes. She squeezed his hand more tightly, the leather of her glove creaking, and she said, "It never could have been anyone but you. For me… you were the only path to happiness."

"You once said that your path to happiness and mine diverged," Melbourne reminded her, "but I would like to think that is not true."

"It seems I was wrong," Victoria admitted, "as I have often been. Thank God I have you to correct me so frequently."

"Correct?" Melbourne's eyebrows went up, and he shook his head firmly. "Victoria, if only you knew how very often it's been you to correct me."

"Well, perhaps we each right the other's wrongs, then," she said, "to the best extent we might. Thank you for not putting four children on me."

He snorted a laugh then, gazing mirthfully out onto the sea once more.

"I don't suppose that was poor Albert's intention. It will be interesting to see three little babies all the same size, lined up beside one another in their little beds."

"If I must be a Victoria, I am glad I am me and not her," Victoria said. "I do not envy her for all the world. I wonder if she envies me. If she will hate me."

"Just be kind to her, Ma'am," Melbourne suggested. "I suspect she is enduring a hell she never predicted."

Victoria sighed and stared at the sharp profile of his face, bathed in starlight and looking just old enough to be strong and steady. She huffed out a little breath and murmured,

"I want more of you."

His lips curled up a little, and his throat bobbed a bit, and he said,

"I want you, too, Ma'am. Dinner was mediocre at best, and I find my sense of taste unfulfilled."

Victoria's mouth fell open at the way he'd managed to be at once vague and explicit. Her cheeks went warm even in the cold night air, and she whispered,

"These stars are lovely, but I want to be in bed."

"Quite so." He took her hand again, and he smirked at her as he informed her, "Do your best not to shriek when I bring you to paradise over and over, Victoria. It is rather a small ship."

Her stomach fluttered, and she was rendered breathless, and he laughed a little as he pulled her away from the edge of the deck.

**Author's Note: Oh, Lord M and his beautiful romantic prowess. LOL. In the next chapter, we'll definitely see poor 18-year-old Princess Victoria and her four children, and we'll definitely see Albert! Yikes! I'm going to Las Vegas for a week starting in two days, so my update pace will be temporarily slowed, but I will continue to post chapters whenever I get the chance.**


	35. Chapter 35

"My dearest cousin Albert."

"Your Majesty." Albert bowed his head and reached for Victoria's gloved hand, which he kissed before giving her a very serious, studying look. It almost made Victoria uncomfortable, the way his eyes seemed to search hers. She cleared her throat a little and said,

"I'm sure you remember my husband, Prince William."

"Ah, but he was Lord Melbourne the last time I saw him," Albert smiled. He nodded politely to Melbourne, who flicked the corners of his lips up and then turned his attention to the vast first level of Schloss Rosenau. There was a sudden chorus of crying, of at least two infants angrily pleading at once, and Victoria joked,

"I'm sure that's a rare sound about here. Many congratulations are in order, I suppose, Albert."

"Thank you," he said. "It was certainly… unexpected. I do not suppose my Victoria meant to be a mother of four at eighteen, but, then, things such as this happen in their own time."

"So they do," Victoria agreed, but she could see Melbourne shift a bit on his feet. They were hardly letting reproduction happen in its own time, she thoughts. They'd spent hours and hours on her yacht doing everything together except the actual procreative act. She'd used her hand on him in the carriage on the way here, and he'd kissed her neck and rubbed at her until she'd come. That had only been a few hours ago. She could not help but wonder if there were still traces of her on his hand. She felt warm and dizzy at that thought, so she turned back to Albert and asked,

"What are the babies' names?"

"I'm afraid we were not very creative," he admitted. "Our eldest is Ernest, after my father and brother. The triplets are three girls - Victoria, Adelaide, and Maria."

"I think those are perfect names," Melbourne said genially. Behind them, their trunks were being hauled about by servants who began to climb the stairs. Victoria asked carefully,

"Is your wife… will I see her soon, Albert?"

"She is feeding the babies," he said simply. "I'm sure she will be down presently."

"Does she feed all three of them?" Victoria asked, knowing and not caring that such an inquiry was remarkably uncouth. Albert laughed a bit and shook his head.

"No. Ernest still takes milk, so he shares a wet nurse with Victoria. Adelaide and Maria share one, and my own Victoria does what she can for each of them."

"Oh. So she does feed them all. How… how extraordinary." Victoria frowned a little, then forced a bit of a laugh and said, "We have three Victorias in the same castle!"

"So we do. And what a castle it is," Melbourne said diplomatically. "The place cuts quite a scene from a far. It is lovely, truly."

"Ah, but it is nothing like Buckingham Palace," Albert shrugged, and Victoria huffed a sigh.

"One of my favourite places on Earth is Brocket Hall," she said, "and it is nothing at all like Buckingham. I find I quite like your Schloss Rosenau, cousin."

"Ah. Here she is. My dear wife, come and meet our cousin," Albert said. Victoria - the English one - grinned as her cousin of the same name descended the stairs. The poor girl looked drawn and sallow, and her feet plodded rather ungracefully on the steps. Her hair had been drawn back into a tight, simple chignon, and her off-the-shoulder dress looked rumpled. Albert's face twisted a little as his wife took his hand and curtsied to Queen Victoria.

"Majesty," she said quietly, and Victoria tried to maintain her smile.

"My dear cousin Victoria. How is it we have never met? I offer you countless congratulations on the births of your beloved children."

"Thank you, Ma'am." The German Victoria lowered her eyes, and it was only then that Victoria saw her hands were shaking. She furrowed her brow and cleared her throat.

"But I must meet them! If they are not about to sleep, I beg you to let me lay eyes upon them."

"The nursery is in quite a state, I'm afraid," the German Victoria said in a slight lisp of a voice. Then, suddenly, she put her hand to her abdomen and rubbed a little, and a sinking feeling came over Queen Victoria.

"I do not mind whatever state it is in," she said gently. "Please, show me your children. Let the boys go outside and admire the architecture of this magnificent place."

"All right," said the German Victoria. The queen glanced back at Melbourne, who looked just as worried as she felt, and he nodded once.

"Albert, please, will you show me the parapets and towers?" He kept his voice upbeat, and Albert glumly agreed,

"I shall explain them to the best of my ability. My dear Victoria, I beg you keep up with the water. You heard the doctors… it will not do for you to dry yourself out."

"Yes, Husband. How very right you are." The German Victoria nodded a little and guided Queen Victoria up the grand staircase. The queen noticed that there was dirt and dust in the crevices of the stairs, and she wondered how often the place was being properly cleaned. Was her cousin Albert as poor as that, she pondered? At the top of the landing, she followed her cousin Victoria through a door and a drawing room that was littered with little toys. Beyond that was a bedroom that appeared to have one small bed and one adult's bed in it, and the German Victoria said,

"Little Ernest sleeps in here with his governess. We need three governesses now. It is an absurd expense."

"I imagine so," the queen replied, glancing around the dark little room.

"He is out on the lawn playing, since the weather is fine today," the German Victoria said, and the queen gave her a pleasant little nod. She followed her cousin through another door, and in there were two governesses and a wet nurse. The wet nurse had one infant at her breast, and each of the other governesses was attending to another baby. All flew to their feet when Queen Victoria walked in, but she gestured for them to sit, and she grinned,

"What marvelous ladies they are, and I do not just mean the babies."

"None of them speaks English, I'm afraid," the German Victoria said. The queen just nodded and said politely,

"Die kleinen Mädchen sind schön, und ich sehe dich gut auf sie aufpassen."

"Danke, Eure Majestät." One of the governesses nodded, and she held up the baby in her arms. "Das ist die Prinzessin Adelaide."

"Oh, little Adelaide. How lovely she is." Victoria smiled at her cousin, and then she asked, "Which one is eating right now?"

"That is Maria," said the mother, "and little Victoria is over there. We have, perhaps, a surplus of Victorias."

"Oh, there could never be such a thing!" Queen Victoria laughed, but when the stoic solemnity of the room came over her like a weight, she cleared her throat and said very gently to her cousin, "I'm sure you are looking forward to a good long break from bearing children. I'm sure Albert will gladly grant you some respite."

Her cousin's face fell a little, and immediately the queen could tell that her cousin knew her condition was obvious. She whispered,

"The next one will be along in five months' time."

"Oh, my dear woman." Victoria shook her head, her eyes burning a little as she looked around the chaotic nursery. She reached for her cousin's hand and squeezed it, and she just said in a serious voice, "May God grant you peace."

* * *

 

"Again?" Melbourne looked utterly shocked as he hissed through the cramped bedroom where he and Victoria were staying. He shook his head wildly. "I thought perhaps she was just still… I don't know, uncomfortable."

"Five months until the next one. That is what she said," Victoria sighed. "Albert needs to keep his hands off of her. Can you not speak to him?"

"You would have me reprimand a man for being physical with his wife?" Melbourne scoffed. "More than that, a prince in his own castle?"

"But he is not just being physical with her," Victoria protested, climbing up into their bed. "He obviously does not understand that he needn't finish inside of her each time. Or perhaps he could take a mistress."

Melbourne choked a bitter little laugh and climbed up alongside Victoria. He shook his head again and muttered,

"Take a mistress. Now there is a suggestion I never thought I would hear you say. Not in a thousand years."

"But she needs to be left alone," Victoria hissed. "She is eighteen years old, feeding multiple children from her breasts whilst another grows inside of her. Lord M, if I were her, I think I would hurl myself from an open window."

"Don't say such a thing," he scolded her seriously, but Victoria took his shoulders and insisted,

"I do not mean to be dramatic, nor flippant. I mean that I've no idea how at all the poor creature wakes up in the morning and goes on living. Small wonder my Uncle Leopold fears for her. I promise he does not know of her condition now. Albert should be shot."

"Victoria!" Melbourne's eyes went wide and flicked to the door. Victoria shook his shoulders a little and snarled,

"You will speak to Albert, Lord M, and that is an order from your queen."

He tipped his head, his green eyes glittering just a little. "You feel strongly about this, and I neither blame you nor disagree with you, but you needn't order me about as my sovereign. I will talk with him. Perhaps he and I might ride out tomorrow and speak, one man to another. I will be frank with him. I will explain to him that it is not abstinence which explains us only having William."

"Yes." Victoria nodded vigorously and planted a kiss square on Melbourne's mouth. "Yes, Lord M. You must teach him how to keep himself from putting children on her, or she'll be twenty with a veritable menagerie and no will left to live. You must speak with Albert first thing tomorrow."

"All right. All right. I will do it. Please, calm yourself, Victoria. Your health and your own nerves are not worth this level of worry."

"You fear for me in a way he does not fear for her," Victoria said quietly. Melbourne's face softened, and he dragged his knuckles down over her neck as he sighed.

"I am sure he cares for her, just as I care for you."

"But it is more than that, isn't it? You love me," Victoria insisted quietly, and Melbourne gave her a crooked smile.

"It would seem as though he loves her enough to put four… no, five… children on her in so short a time."

"That does not feel to me like love," Victoria grumbled. "It feels hateful. She seems to despise everything about her existence. She seems to me to be living in a hell on Earth, like every day for her is fresh torture."

"But you have only the Little Lamb," Melbourne reassured her, touching his lips to her forehead, "and you have a happy life in London. And I shall always, always do anything and everything in my power to keep you happy, Victoria. That is my solemn vow to you."

"And you will speak with Albert in the morning?" She gave him a stern look, and he just nodded.

"I will speak with him in the morning."

**Author's Note: Holy guacamole! Poor German Victoria is pregnant *again* while she's got four kids swarming around! Oh, Albert. Learn to keep it in your pants, or at least figure out some strategies! Lord M will help you with that! Hahaha. I'm already on vacation, so updates will be temporarily slowed, but I'll post when I can. In the meantime, thank you very much for reading and for any feedback.**


	36. Chapter 36

Victoria watched out the window of her bedroom as Melbourne and her cousin Albert took their horses out onto the path. Melbourne was in a dark green riding jacket and looked immensely handsome beside the much younger, more stringy Albert.

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

Victoria kept staring out the window but said politely, "Good morning, Miss Skerrett. You chose something simple today, I hope?"

"Just as you asked, Ma'am," Skerrett confirmed. "A nice patterned calico, simplest thing you'd packed."

"Fine. Thank you." Victoria was going to be having breakfast alone with her cousin, the German Victoria, and she did not wish to appear as the monarch of a powerful nation. Not today. Today she wanted to show solidarity in motherhood with her aggrieved cousin. She let Skerrett put her cream-coloured, simple dress on her, and as Skerrett put Victoria's hair into pendant braids, Victoria suggested,

"No jewelry or hair ornaments today, I don't suppose."

"As you wish it, Ma'am." Skerrett glanced up beyond the mirror at the small dressing table, and she noted, "His Royal Highness is riding out with Prince Albert, it seems? I hope they are not caught up in the rain."

"I thought the same thing," Victoria mused, for the dark clouds were certainly threatening a downpour. "It is an important conversation they're having."

Skerrett was quiet then, and finally Victoria huffed a little sigh and asked quietly,

"Can you imagine, Miss Skerrett? So very many children in so short a time?"

"And she's only eighteen." Skerrett shook her head. "No, Ma'am. I can not imagine. I see the joy you have with the Prince of Wales, but I am glad for you that you do not have so many as the poor woman here. I hope I do not overstep."

"No. I agree with you. That's why I'm having breakfast with her," Victoria said. "I think she and I are well due for a good solid conversation. The poor creature. Thank you, Skerrett."

"A fine day to you, Ma'am." Skerrett curtsied as Victoria rose, and when she walked out of the quarters she shared with Melbourne, she was greeted by several bowing and saluting guards and attendants. She nodded to them all and made her way down the grand staircase and into the simple, elegant dining room. The ceilings were arched and lovely, but Victoria noticed that some of the plaster was coming away. Those were the finances exposed again, she thought. Suddenly she found herself hoping that their visit to Coburg was not placing an undue burden on an already impoverished ducal family.

"Your Majesty." A maid curtsied low to Victoria when she came into the dining room. Victoria glanced around and said tightly,

"Good morning. Is my cousin not yet ready?"

"I... er... I believe she come," the maid said in broken English. "She feed baby. Then she come."

"Thank you." Victoria walked over to the chair at the head of the table, for even beyond Albert, she was the highest ranking royal in the household. She waited for an attendant to pull the chair out, and when she sat, the maid poured her some apple juice. Victoria nodded her thanks but waited, listening to the carved wooden clock on the wall tick out the seconds.

Finally, after what felt like an absolute eternity, her cousin Victoria came bursting into the dining room, her hair in hastily-done ringlets and her striped gown looking a bit worse for the wear. The German Victoria dipped into a respectful curtsy, and Queen Victoria said simply,

"Good morning, cousin. I hope you and your precious children are well today."

"Well enough. Thank you." She let the attendant pull out her chair, and when she sat, she muttered in German to the maid to hurry up and bring out the sausages and rolls and cheese. Queen Victoria glanced to the men in the room and waved her hand a few times to dismiss them. They bowed and left, and her cousin looked mildly confused. Queen Victoria waited until the room was empty, and then she said flatly,

"Our husbands have ridden out together to talk."

"Yes," the German Victoria nodded. "Albert was summoned early to go riding."

"They are discussing means and methods of preventing a man from putting a child on his wife," Victoria said in a plain voice. Her cousin looked a little scandalised, and their conversation ceased for a moment as plates of food were brought in. Queen Victoria waved the maid out, and when the space was empty again, she asked,

"Do you know the time of the month in which it is most likely that you will have a child put on you by Albert?"

Her cousin Victoria seemed very confused, so the queen specified,

"You begin to bleed, and then you bleed for... what? Five days? Six?"

"Five," the German Victoria confirmed.

"Right. Well, about ten days after that stops is the time when a child will be put on you. And so you must limit yourself to only being physical with your husband in the days immediately preceding and following your bleeding. Right after it stops or right before it starts."

"And that... that might spare me conception?" The German Victoria looked utterly awed, and the queen remembered then how ignorant she had been about all of this. Lord M had been the one to teach her. She had needed his tutelage on this, and now she was passing it onto her young cousin. She nodded.

"It is not one hundred percent effective - nothing is besides abstaining entirely from contact. But there is something else. He needn't always spill himself inside of you. You know what I mean by that."

The German Victoria's cheeks went very pink, and she set down her fork and knife as she murmured,

"It is my duty as his wife..."

"You have done far more than your duty already," Victoria said tartly. "My husband is speaking to Albert. He has much experience in matters such as these. More experience, perhaps, than I wish he had, but at least he is something of an expert on these things."

The German Victoria's eyes welled, and she shook her head a little.

"We are married, he and I," she said. "God has blessed... has blessed us..."

"Victoria." The queen shook her head firmly. "Your fifth child is coming and you have not yet seen your nineteenth birthday. What sort of blessing is that?"

"Albert says that God has blessed me with a ready womb," the German Victoria said firmly. "He says that it is right and proper that our family be large, that my role as a mother be paramount."

"Then he does not respect your safety, nor your comfort, nor your sanity," the queen said in a sour voice, "and I think far less of him now than I did before."

"No, I beg you." Her cousin held her hands up and murmured, "Albert adores me. He adores the children. We are happy here."

"That is not what Uncle Leopold believes, and he saw you with his own eyes not so very long ago," the queen replied. "He is, in fact, concerned with your mental wellbeing and your ability to function under these conditions."

"I am functioning," the German Victoria insisted. She put her hand to her abdomen and nodded insistently. "I promise you, Majesty... I am functioning."

Queen Victoria studied her cousin's darkened eyes, her sallow cheeks, the way it was obvious she'd been crying this morning. She glanced down at her own plate of food and found she had no appetite whatsoever, and she muttered,

"It's beginning to rain. The men will back very shortly, I think. Then, perhaps, we might begin to pack up our things. I do not want to overstay our welcome."

* * *

 

"Spare her conception. Those are the words she used," Victoria noted. "Then she went on and on about how much Albert adores her, how her womb is ready..."

She shuddered in disgust and stared out the carriage window, and she said quietly,

"We could not stay there."

"Believe it or not, Albert does not seem to have ill intent," Melbourne said from across the carriage. Their stay at Schloss Rosenau had lasted all of two days, but the tension had been so palpable that even Melbourne had agreed they should go back to England. He waited for Victoria to meet his eyes, and he shrugged. "Albert really thinks that all these children are a blessing, that his wife is a wonderful and beautiful creature for bearing them all. He really does not seem to comprehend why someone would wish to space out children in the first place."

"So he was not receptive to your suggestions?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne smirked a little, dragging his fingers through his hair.

"He took it on himself to lecture me," Melbourne said. He imitated Albert's German accent then and said, "Prince William, forgive me, but you are already rather aged. If my cousin Victoria is to bear many children within your marriage, do you not think it wise that she should do so quickly?"

"What a beast he is!" Victoria exclaimed, and again Melbourne said,

"I think he meant well. I think he was really quite concerned about whether or not you and I will have time to produce sufficient offspring."

"He seems awfully preoccupied with putting his poor wife through hell and insisting it is heavenly," Victoria said in a bitter, spitting voice. She wrapped her woolen cape more tightly about herself and stared out at the cold drizzle.

"I'm afraid you and I were not able to achieve what your Uncle Leopold asked of us," Melbourne said softly. "We certainly did not make either of them see reason, and I fear we left your cousin Victoria in just as poor a state as we found her."

"Poor in more ways than one," Victoria said sadly. "They are my Uncle Leopold's concern now. I have much to occupy me at home."

"Not least of which is your own son," Melbourne said warmly. "William will be so very glad to se his Mama."

"He'll be far more excited to see you," Victoria smiled. "The Little Lamb will go dashing into your arms, and Sir Robert Peel will come dashing into mine."

Melbourne laughed then, seeming genuinely mirthful in a way he so rarely was. He shook his head a bit and insisted,

"I think you have it quite the other way round. William will cry for his Mama, and I shall find Sir Robert Peel huddled in a corner with fifteen unfinished pieces of legislation for which he requires my opinion."

Now it was Victoria's turn to laugh, and she turned her face from the cold, dismal farmland outside to Melbourne's eyes.

"Ought we have stayed?" She gave him an uncertain look, but he shook his head firmly.

"It was torture, trying to converse with Albert, and I fear the topic of conversation rendered any friendly eveningtime chats entirely out of the question. As for your cousin Victoria, you make it seem as though she rather put up a wall between the two of you at breakfast."

"Quite so." Victoria sighed and jolted when a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. She glanced up through the window and murmured, "I wonder if there will be lightning. I adore lightning."

"Do you?" Melbourne seemed a little amused. "Why?"

"So much power in one little bolt," Victoria whispered, and after another round of thunder, Melbourne said,

"Rather like you, Ma'am. Quite a lot of power in a surprisingly small package."

She grinned at him and swatted his knee. As she started to pull her hand away, Melbourne reached for her fingers and wrapped his around them. Their gloves kept their skin apart, and they were left with leather on leather. But Victoria stared at Melbourne and saw a sudden hungry expression in his green eyes. She shook her head and reminded him,

"If it begins to really storm, they'll stop us at the next village."

"So they will. Let me just look at you, then." The ran outside began to fall harder, and Melbourne locked his eyes onto Victoria's as he said, "How very comfortable it is in here, compared to the tempest that rages outside. Don't you think?"

"Of course," Victoria nodded. "I am always at comfort with you, Lord M, and I am always surrounded by tempests."

She leaned toward him a little, and he did the same. Their faces approached in the centre of the carriage, and once Victoria's lips were against Melbourne's, she whispered,

"You have always been my shelter, Lord M. My refuge."

"Always?" He was teasing her now, tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her jaw and dragging his lips over hers.

"Since the day I first met you," she said. She thought of her cousins, of the one who had been deceived into thinking her misery was her destiny, of the one who thought he was loving his wife by putting her through hell. Then she pulled back a little and stared at Lord Melbourne, at her Prince Consort, and she whispered, "You have protected me since the moment you first kissed my hand."

He picked up her gloved hand in his then, bringing her knuckles to his lips. His green eyes glittered as he kissed her there, and he informed her,

"We protect one another, you and I. And I am grateful for it, Ma'am."

"Are you?" Victoria squeezed his hand a little, and he nodded.

"Profoundly grateful, Ma'am."

* * *

 

It was warmer on the voyage back to England. The sea was far calmer, and Victoria did not feel at all ill the way she'd felt on the voyage to Germany. One morning, she stood outside in a woolen cloak, just enough to cut out the wind, and she stared up at the way the smokestack puffed black against the azure sky.

"It is a marvel of a yacht, I must say."

She glanced down at the sound of Melbourne's voice, and she smiled to see that he'd dressed elegantly and had a top hat on. She liked him when he was all done up like this, but, then, she'd liked him the night before when he'd been rumpled in bed, too.

"You missed breakfast," she chastised him, and Melbourne sighed a little, his jovial mood dissipating visibly.

"I'm afraid I was feeling a little unwell, Victoria."

She frowned. "How so?"

"Weakness on my left side," he said, and it was only then that she realised he had a walking stick with him, a slick black creation upon which he now seemed to be leaning quite heavily. Victoria scowled and demanded,

"When did this begin? You seemed fine in Coburg; you certainly seemed fine last night."

He smirked a little and nodded, glancing about the deck to ensure that no one was closely listening.

"I am having difficulty making a fist, bending the elbow. It is nothing, really, and I am sorry both for you and for my stomach that I missed breakfast."

"That is not nothing," Victoria hissed, stepping closer to him. She seized his left arm in her hands, taking his fingers and forcing them open and shut. He felt a little limp beneath her, and he insisted again,

"Really, Ma'am... it is nothing. Perhaps I slept with my weight awkwardly on the arm."

"You slept on your back," she reminded him, "with me curled up against you. I would know; I was there."

"So you were." His face began to falter, the facade of wellness he'd plastered on crackling as he admitted, "When I woke and you were already dressing, I could not quite place where we were. Brocket Hall, I thought, or Melbourne Hall. I knew it was not Buckingham Palace. It was only when I heard the slapping of the waves outside the wall that I finally remembered we were aboard a ship."

"Lord M." She shook her head and squeezed at his hand. "We must get you to the doctors at once."

"Well, they are waiting for us in London," Melbourne pointed out, but Victoria hissed,

"We can not wait until London for this! We must see a local doctor as soon as we -"

"I do not think that is wise," he interrupted her. When she opened her mouth to protest, he said carefullly, "It was one thing, Victoria, for the people to pray and think fondly of the Prince Consort during one bout of illness. If they know I have any recurring symptoms, they will start to speak of me dying. You do not want that for yourself, I promise."

"For myself?" Victoria's eyes seared like fire, and she assured him, "I want you well. That is all. I want you to see doctors."

"They would bleed me with leeches and order rest, which is precisely what the London doctors will do. And, in any case, I can not bear to prolong our absence away from the Little Lamb."

"We are going back much sooner than expected," Victoria reminded him. Melbourne seemed frustrated then, and he licked his lips carefully as he gazed out upon the sapphire water.

"I will not leave you yet, Ma'am," he said quietly. "I am old, but not so old as that. I have been ill, but not so ill as that. I lack the capacity, I think, for a proper farewell. Please try not to worry over me. My arm is a bit useless this morning; I am a bit forgetful today. It is nothing, and if either of us makes it into something, I fear we are both lost."

"So I am to pretend that you are fine when you very evidently are not?" Victoria snapped, and Melbourne let out a very long breath, taking his green eyes from the water and putting them on Victoria's face.

"Do you remember, Ma'am, after the incident with Flora Hastings, what I told you?"

She nodded, fighting back tears as she recalled, "You told me to go out there and smile and not to let them know how difficult it is to bear. But you meant the embarrassment, the pressure of being queen. This is entirely different; you are asking me to ignore the medical reality that plagues my husband."

"I am asking you to keep on sailing to England, and then to get in a carriage to London," he corrected her, "because, really, there is nothing else to do. Now that I think on it, I find my left arm is doing better than ever, and that I know not only that we are aboard a ship, but that I could place us on a map."

He smiled a little, but Victoria did not smile back.

"You ought to go eat something, Lord M," she said softly, "seeing as how you missed breakfast."

Then she walked away, striding down the deck and leaving him standing in the sun.

* * *

 

"Oh, William. I could play with you all evening, but you must take your bath," Victoria said, dragging the carved wooden carriage along the rug. William toddled over and tossed a small wooden block at her face, and though Emma Portman gasped a little, Victoria laughed and told her son,

"Lady Emma tells me you throw absolutely everything now, and that you figured how to do it just in the time Mama was gone."

"Mama!" His voice was clear and ringing, and when she handed him the block again, he promptly tossed it. He giggled then, and Victoria joined him, and she said to Emma,

"How I loathe leaving him again, after so many days gone. But I must go see what the doctors told Lord M."

Emma Portman strode over and sat on the divan behind little William. She handed him a softer toy, a little star of fabric that had been stuffed like a pillow. William threw that, too, but at least it did little damage. Emma asked Victoria gently,

"Did it worsen, Ma'am? From the time you were aboard the yacht until you got here?"

"He can't really use his left arm at all," Victoria said regretfully, "and more than once I said his name whilst he stared out the window and he ignored me. I think he is not being truthful with me about the severity of his symptoms. I pray he has been far more truthful with his doctors."

"If I know him, and I'd like to think I do," Emma said carefully, "he will do absolutely everything he can to stay here and stay well for you and for his son. He knows the hubris, I think, in feigning good health when it might cost him time with his family to do so."

"I hope you're right," Victoria sighed. She picked up the little stuffed star and passed it back to William, and it was immediately thrown back in her face. She laughed again, just a little, but William's laughter was raucous. He could stand unaided now, though forward progress still evaded him. Suddenly it occurred to Victoria that if Melbourne did not quickly regain use of his left arm, he would be unable to pick up and hold his Little Lamb. That would not do at all. She played with little William's wispy brown hair and studied his wide green eyes, reading Lord M all over the child's face, and she told him,

"You be good for Lady Emma and don't dare throw the bathwater the way you've been throwing everything else, Little Lamb."

"Mama!" He tossed his hands up in the air, and Emma smiled,

"It is difficult to scold him when he is so very precious, isn't it, Ma'am?"

"Difficult indeed," Victoria agreed. She leaned to kiss William's forehead, and she glanced up to Emma as she rose from the ground. "How grateful I am that he has you during all my work and these troubles with Lord M. I am only glad we did not stay in Germany for long. I couldn't have stood it, I don't think - being away from him for weeks and weeks."

"He did ask for you," Emma told her. "I would not have told you if I thought it would have saddened you, but... more than once he pointed frantically at the door and asked for his Mama."

"Oh." Victoria felt very emotional then, and she nodded. "I am glad you've told me. That... it hurts and helps all at once. Goodnight, sweet William. Mama will feed you your porridge in the morning. Goodnight, Emma."

"Goodnight, Ma'am." Emma curtsied, and as Victoria walked quickly from the room, she could hear Emma saying,

"Your Highness, I fear it is bath time! Oh, I know you loathe it, but we must all be clean, mustn't we?"

* * *

 

"Well?"

Victoria watched as Melbourne struggled to climb into the bed. She did not help him, for she wanted to witness for herself the extend of his problems. She realised he could not lean on his left arm for support, and he looked pathetic trying to heave himself upward. Finally Victoria reached for his right arm and gave him leverage to pull himself up. He huffed as he pushed his legs beneath the blankets, and as he leaned back against the pillows, he said quietly,

"There is damage, and it is only making itself known now."

"Damage," Victoria repeated. "What sort of damage?"

"They do not suppose I had a separate attack," Melbourne said, his eyes locked on the painting above the fireplace. His fingers picked at the blanket, and he told her, "The brain works, in many ways, like other organs. Just as a man might have an attack of the heart and suffer effects thereafter, it may be that the brain itself has undergone some sort of shift, that it has endured damage."

"Will you be able to use your left arm again?" Victoria demanded, perhaps a bit too harshly. "Will the damage come and go, or is it permanent?"

"They can not say." Melbourne twitched the fingers of his left hand as if to show Victoria that he could do that much, and he pursed his lips. "Full movement might come back, as it did before, or it might be gone. I write with my right hand."

"You ride with both hands," Victoria said, and Melbourne immediately countered.

"I needn't ride anymore. I'm old enough to excuse myself from that as an activity. Carriages are much more comfortable."

Victoria growled in irritation. "You hold William with both hands. You dance with me using both hands."

He was silent then, and his throat bobbed as he promised her, "I will do the prescribed exercises daily. The doctor says he will meet with me weekly to assess progress or..."

"Or further damage," Victoria completed. She wanted to cry then, but she knew she must not. She pulled his left hand into her lap and stroked at his wrist, at his fingers and palm. "William needs you. I need you."

"I think I need you both far more than you need me," argued Melbourne, "but nevertheless, I shall do my very best not to go anywhere. I shall do my best to dance with you next month, Victoria."

"Next month." She'd forgotten entirely about her own birthday until just now. Of course there would be a party, and a small ball with dancing. Her heart ached at the thought of him not sweeping her into his arms. He shut his eyes now and nodded.

"I have a goal, which the doctor insists is of great help. My goal is to dance with you for your birthday, Ma'am. And to remember well on the morning of what an important day it is."

"Oh, Lord M." Victoria caressed his fingers with hers, breathing a little sigh of relief when he partially wrapped his large hand round her small one. She raised her eyes to his and waited until he turned his face to look at her with a serious expression. She nodded and said firmly, "Next month. We shall dance next month. Do you promise?"

"I promise to try, Ma'am," he said, and Victoria brought his knuckles to her lips. Melbourne waited until she'd kissed him there, and he said again, "I do promise to try."

**Author's Note: Whew! Sorry for that long chapter! I had a three hour plane ride today and nothing to do but write. Thanks for reading and for any feedback!**


	37. Chapter 37

"Your Majesty, I do not mean to be indelicate or to pry," said Sir Robert Peel carefully from where he stood in Victoria's drawing room, "but... may I ask... is the Prince Consort quite all right today?"

Victoria frowned and looked up from her work. She felt a quiver of worry go through her, and she gestured for Peel to sit opposite her. She tried to hold the pen steady in her hand as she signed a few letters, and then she said,

"What makes you ask after him, Sir Robert?"

Peel hesitated for a very long moment, and then he said gently,

"When you and I first began our working relationship, Ma'am, things were... acrimonious."

"They were acrimonious long before you were Prime Minister, Sir Robert," Victoria reminded him, "but I think we are friends now. Are we not?"

"I should like to think so, Ma'am," Peel said. Then he cleared his throat and said in a quiet, regretful voice, "He did not know me this morning."

"I beg your pardon?" Victoria set her pen back in its inkwell and stared. At breakfast, her husband had been a little distracted, but he'd talked animatedly to little William, and he'd eaten all his sausage and egg. Peel had arrived only an hour after breakfast. Could Melbourne's demeanour have shifted so rapidly as that? Peel folded his hands in his lap and stared down for a moment, and then he murmured,

"He smiled politely whilst I greeted him, but there was a... a distance in his eyes, Ma'am. And then when I bid him a good day, he told me it had been nice to meet me."

"Oh. I see." Victoria felt abruptly like she'd be sick on the rug. She touched her trembling fingers to her forehead and whispered, "I am sorry that happened. I shall speak with him."

"Please, Ma'am," Peel said, the entreaty in his voice urgent, "do tell me if there is any way at all I might be of assistance to you or to His Royal Highness."

"I shall do that. Thank you, Sir Robert. Your discretion and your friendship are greatly appreciated."

* * *

 

"William." Victoria said his given name almost sternly as he came hobbling into her bedroom. He used the steps that had been put beside the bed to help him mount it, and he wryly shook his head as he settled against his pillows.

"I do not recall the last time a pleasant conversation between you and I began with the word 'William,' Ma'am."

"There are many things you do not recall, it seems," Victoria said, a bit harshly. Melbourne looked wounded then, and he muttered,

"I remembered who he was a half a minute after he was gone. I am sorry to have embarrassed you like -"

"Embarrassed me," Victoria repeated, shaking her head almost violently. She scoffed. "I am not embarrassed, Lord M; I am terrified."

"No, you needn't be frightened for anything," he said warmly, and he reached with his right hand to cup Victoria's jaw. His left hand dangled uselessly on the bed, and even his right hand trembled as he pulled in to kiss her. Victoria waited until he'd put his rough lips to her soft ones a few times, and then she asked him,

"What are we celebrating in a few weeks' time?"

"Oh, one of your quizzes." Melbourne tipped his head and smiled crookedly. "You know how I adore these quizzes."

He did not adore them, because over the last few weeks, his ability to answer her questions had been getting very rapidly worse. But Victoria did not care whether he liked her quiz or not.

"I am the queen of England," she said in a low, insistent voice, "and I have asked you a question, Lord M. Answer me. What are we celebrating in a few weeks' time?"

"Your birthday," he said, as though the answer were very obvious. He tried to smile, but then he looked a little confused again, and Victoria pressed him,

"Which birthday is it? How old will I be?"

He looked almost irritated then, and he shook his head as he mumbled,

"Oh, and now I must do calculations. Very well. Let me see. You were born in 1785, so -"

"No, Caroline was born in 1785." Victoria's eyes seared so badly then that she could do nothing to stop herself crying. She did not even swipe at the tears, nor at her messily running nose, as she found his glassy green eyes and reminded him, "I am Victoria. Your Victoria. I was born in 1819, remember?"

"Eighteen... nineteen. Hm. How can you be so very young as that?" He smiled and put his hand back up to her face and said gently, "Twenty-three, then. You shall be turning all of twenty-three, with your great long life still ahead of you."

"Lord M." Victoria let her tears fall, and he used the knuckles of his right hand to quickly brush them away as he said in a clearer voice,

"Please do not mourn me yet, Victoria. I am still here. I am still with you. At least wait until they put me in the ground to start the mourning."

"And when will that be?" Victoria's words came out in a growl, a bite that snapped at the air between them. She seized his face in her hands and wondered, "Will you leave me a widow so young as this, Lord M? You can not leave me behind. You must not. I forbid it."

His face went quite sad then, and he reached to cover her hand with his.

"I think, Ma'am, that perhaps once again you are overestimating your powers as queen."

"Make love to me," she said suddenly, and Melbourne's face twisted a little. It had been two weeks since he'd really touched her properly, and she had her suspicions that a certain body part was no longer functioning. She had that suspicion confirmed when Melbourne licked his lips and suggested,

"I could use my mouth, perhaps, to... to bring you pleasure, if that is what you -"

"Stop." Victoria shut her eyes, and hot tears wormed their way out, wriggling down her cheeks. She felt his lips on her skin, kissing the tears away, and then she started to shake. Her back heaved with sobs, and she found herself burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, horrifying images flooding her mind. She could see the state funeral. She could see herself years from now, trying to explain to the Little Lamb just what sort of man his father had been, the father the boy could not remember.

"Please," she cried against his neck, "Please do not go."

"I am still here, Victoria," he said, though his voice sounded more frightened than she'd ever heard it. Still, he used his right hand to rub at her back, and he kissed her sodden cheek as he pulled her back. She realised he was crying then, really and truly crying, and she'd never seen him do such a thing.

"I am afraid. I admit it," he said, "but I was never afraid to die until you gave me such a magnificent reason to live. So I am not going anywhere, Ma'am. After all, you forbade it. Didn't you?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Yes, I did."

* * *

 

"Your Majesty, His Royal Highness Prince William."

Victoria's hand froze where she'd been writing, and she looked up to see Melbourne come walking slowly into her drawing room. Penge looked worried as he shut the door behind him, and once there was quiet, Victoria stood and noted,

"You are in the Windsor uniform."

"Breaking protocol, I know," Melbourne nodded. "I wanted to be dressed properly."

"For what?" Victoria walked around her desk and approached him, and she was shocked to see him start to descend to one knee. She did not argue with him, despite the very obvious distress it was causing him to genuflect. She held her hand out, and when he leaned forward to kiss it, his lips shook almost violently against her skin. She helped him up then, holding his elbows and heaving up him up to stand. He stared down at her and looked for a moment as though he could not remember why he'd come. But then he whispered,

"I can hold... my left arm up a little today, Ma'am. I do not suppose I shall be able to at your birthday party. And so... I was wondering... if perhaps you might... if you might dance with me. Just one more time."

"Here?" Victoria looked around the room and tried desperately to smile a little at him as she pointed out, "We have no music."

"Do not worry," he said. "I have it in my head, you see, and I shall keep the beat faithfully."

He held out his right hand to her, and when Victoria took it, the corners of his lips curled up a bit. He slid his right hand around her back and she put her left hand up onto the shoulder of his gold braided coat, and then she seized his left hand in her right one. She helped him pull his left hand up, and though his arm felt limp and heavy, they were in something resembling a dancing stance. He stepped off then, and Victoria followed his lead as he began to waltz. He moved tentatively and conservatively compared to the way he'd always danced with her, but his beat was sure, and he was still elegant.

Victoria stared up into his green eyes, trying desperately to memorise every last part of them. The colour, the way there were little lines round his pupils, the bit of wrinkling beside them. She cast him into her memory, building a statue of him in her mind, and she whispered,

"Thank you for taking me from my work for a few moments."

"I ought not have interrupted." Melbourne's left side of his face was not moving properly, and so his speech was affected, but Victoria paid that no mind. He rubbed at her back a little, moving their steps toward an open part of the room, and he reminded her, "The work on that desk is the most important work you will ever do aside from being a mother to my Little Lamb."

"And a wife to you," Victoria choked out. Melbourne just nodded a little, his eyes suddenly looking as though he were pleading and searching for something.

"Ma'am, I must tell you a story whilst I can," he said, and Victoria just whispered,

"All right."

His dance steps faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, and he told her,

"The first time I saw you clamber up onto a throne that had been made for a large man, your feet dangled six inches from the ground."

"I remember," Victoria said, tipping her head and squeezing his shoulder a little. Melbourne smirked as best he could, and he said,

"You were very young, and you were very small. But you raised your eyes up to me and they were so full of hope. Swinging little feet and eyes full of magic. There had been difficult times for the monarchy, and I admit I was concerned... until I saw you on that throne. With your swinging feet and your sparkling eyes. And do you know what I thought?"

"No, Lord M." Victoria fought through her own tears. "What did you think?"

He shrugged with his right shoulder and murmured,

"I thought... Britain is saved, and she is our future."

His left arm started to feel perilously heavy in Victoria's hand, and after awhile, she could not hold it up on her own. Their arms slowly sank down, and whatever music had been playing in Melbourne's head stopped. He glanced at the clock on the wall, staring for so long that Victoria thought his mind had gone entirely from the room. But then he slowly turned his face back to hers, and he said in a serious voice, one untainted for a moment by his sickness,

"Victoria, you have opened my eyes, and you have opened my mind, and far more importantly, you have opened my heart. And for all of that, I could never, ever thank you properly."

"Why does it sound like you are saying goodbye to me?" Victoria demanded. Melbourne shook his head and squeezed his right hand around her left one.

"No. I... I shall see you at dinner. I should leave you to your work."

"I love you," she told him firmly. "More than any woman has ever loved any man, I love you."

"And because of that, Ma'am, I am the luckiest man in all the world."

He picked up her right hand in his and kissed it slowly, and then he bowed and turned to walk on unsteady legs from the drawing room. Once the door shut behind him, Victoria lost herself. She leaned heavily onto the back of a divan and sobbed until she couldn't breathe, until her eyes went dry. Then, finally, she turned her swollen, sore gaze to her desk, to the work she'd left unfinished, and she forced her feet back over there.

**Author's Note: Yes, we're starting to get into heartbreaking territory here. Sorry for that. We all know when the real Lord M lived and died, but obviously this story is operating with alternate timelines for all major life events. That does NOT mean, however, that he is on the verge of death. There is always hope. There must always be hope. I apologize for not answering all comments; I will do so as soon as my vacation schedule allows. Thanks for your patience, your readership, and your feedback.**


	38. Chapter 38

"He looks so happy," Victoria mused, watching from the doorway as Melbourne sat on the floor and laughed with his son. Emma Portman sighed and murmured,

"I have rarely seen a father who so loves his child."

Little William was building a tower with his wooden blocks. Or, rather, Melbourne was using his good right hand to build a tower, and the Little Lamb was knocking it down once it was finished.

"Wait now. Wait, there are three more. One... two... three. There. Wreak your havoc." Melbourne grinned at little William, who gleefully swung his arm across the tower of blocks, sending them all flying. Melbourne laughed along with the child and then pulled him into a one-armed embrace, and Victoria's heart ached. Then she heard little William say very clearly,

"Love you, Papa."

Melbourne's face shifted, and he blinked a few times as he looked up at Victoria. She shrugged helplessly and insisted,

"He's never said any such thing in front of me. Do you love your papa, William? Tell him again."

William grinned madly and seized his father's curls, and he said again,

"Love you, Papa."

"And I love you, Little Lamb," Melbourne said, sounding abruptly emotional. He used his good arm to cradle William against his chest, and Victoria watched as he seemed to be breathing the little boy in. From beside her, Emma Portman said,

"Perhaps I ought to go, Ma'am, and give you all a few more minutes alone. The Prince of Wales needn't have his bath right at seven."

"His schedule should be maintained," Victoria insisted. "There is no pressing matter, no urgency that would necessitate or justify changing his schedule."

Emma nodded slowly and turned her eyes back to Melbourne, and she said gently,

"Two minutes until bath, then, Your Highness."

Both of the princes, both Williams, looked up at her with a twinge of regret in their gazes. Suddenly Victoria realised just how neatly her son's face mirrored her husband's, and her stomach lurched. This was her Lord M. This was the man who had steered her through the chaos in her first days and years as queen. He had guided her, mentored her, spoken with her, kissed her, loved her. This was her Lord M, and now he sat with the child they'd made together, his face half drooping, his left arm hanging limply beside him.

Victoria's birthday ball was the next day, and she had half a mind to cancel it entirely. She glanced at Emma Portman as the boys spent their last few minutes playing, and she said,

"I can't have a ball when he is like this."

"With all respect, Majesty... he may never not be like this. This may be the best of him that any of us will see going forward. I do not mean to overstep, but I suggest that the sooner the ball happens, the better."

"Because you suspect it will be the very last one he ever attends," Victoria spat, and Emma's face warmed as she specified,

"Because I do not know what to expect, Ma'am, and I suspect that you might not, either."

"You're right, of course." Victoria pinched her lips and told Emma, "He must stay with me, and with our Little Lamb, for a very long time. I am not nearly ready to say goodbye to him."

"Oh, Your Majesty," Emma said, shaking her head firmly, "He is not ready to say goodbye to you, either. Nor to his son. I suspect he will fight through this better than any of us could imagine."

"I hope you're right," Victoria said. Then, watching as Melbourne rose slowly and took his son's hand in his own, she added, "I have faith in him. I must. Let me go kiss our little prince goodnight."

* * *

 

"I would like, with Her Majesty's permission, to make a brief toast in her honour."

The large dining room went quiet as the Prince Consort stood. Everyone's eyes were a bit sorrowful as they watched him, but Victoria gave him a reassuring smile. Melbourne picked up his glass of wine as if to raise it, but it shook so ferociously in his right hand that he immediately set it back down. He swallowed hard, his neatly-tied cravat looking like it was choking him a little. He cleared his throat and looked out upon the long tables of guests, and he spoke in a steadier voice than Victoria had heard from him in some time.

"I am exceedingly lucky," he said, "to live in the realm of Great Britain. I am very lucky to be British. I say that as a man who spent entirely too many years screaming at other men about matters of the Constitution. I also say it as the subject of the greatest monarch in the world. We are all of us blessed by her, by the way she has injected life into this country, by her curiosity and her commitment to reasonable and compassionate solutions to our common problems. We are all graced by her, by her elegance and her beauty. But I am more blessed, and more graced, because I have the unfathomable honour of being her husband. Today, on her birthday, I find myself grateful for her in so very many ways. Your Majesty."

He turned to her then, and Victoria struggled hard not to cry. She couldn't cry, not here, not in front of her prime minister and other members of court. She stared up at Melbourne, steely-faced to guard against the tears that wanted to fall, and she nodded as he told her,

"Twenty years from now, you will still be vibrant with life, and I will be a pitifully old man. But I will toast you then... twenty years from now, just the way I am toasting you tonight. You do understand that?"

Suddenly Victoria could do nothing at all to keep tears from spilling, and she used her knuckles to swipe them away. She saw a few women further down the table dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs, and even Robert Peel turned his face away for a moment. Victoria just nodded again. Melbourne took a steadying breath and snatched his glass of wine, holding it aloft in a hand that shook like mad.

"Happy birthday, Ma'am," he said. Then he turned to the others and cried, "Long live the Queen!"

"Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!" The guests sipped from their own glasses, and as Melbourne set his glass down slowly, the hired strings in the corner began to play "God Save the Queen." Everyone slowly rose, even Victoria, and she stood politely as they sang to her.

"Send her victorious, happy and glorious, long to reign over us. God save the Queen."

There was applause then, and after cake was served, the guests made their way into the ballroom for dancing. Melbourne was speaking to Robert Peel about something, Victoria could see, but she let them be.

"He will not be able to dance tonight, I think, Drina."

"No, Mama." Victoria turned to the Duchess of Kent, who had approached her, and she shook her head. "I don't suppose he will be able to dance. I do not mind."

The Duchess sighed a little and said,

"Surely there must be more the doctors can -"

"Please stop." Victoria shut her eyes and shook her head. "Mama, the very last thing I need these days is your fretting. If all you can do is discuss what Lord M can't, then I beg you to spend you time away from me right now."

The Duchess said nothing for a long moment. Then, finally, she told Victoria,

"I saw little William in the gardens today. What a fine young man he will be. He is a sweet boy."

"I am surprised you can recognise a sweet child when you see one, Mama," Victoria said bitterly. "You and Sir John made sure that all I was was obedient and stupid. How did that work for you?"

"Drina." The Duchess looked scandalised, and suddenly Victoria chewed her lip and realised she'd lashed out inappropriately. She let out shaking air through her teeth and said,

"He might not be able to dance, but I shall spend the evening with him just the same. Goodnight, Mama."

"Happy birthday, Drina," the Duchess replied, her wide eyes sad as Victoria strode away. When she approached her husband and her prime minister, Peel bowed and then looked at her with concern in his eyes. He said very quietly,

"Your Majesty, I'm afraid His Royal Highness is experiencing a bit of difficulty."

"What sort of difficulty?" Victoria demanded, and Melbourne shrugged his right shoulder. He sounded irritated as he scoffed,

"Peel here insists there is no war in Canada, but we all know there is a great and terrible war in Canada."

Victoria frowned. "There is no war in Canada, Lord M. But it doesn't matter, does it?"

"I'll go to Quebec myself," Melbourne said, scuffing his foot on the floor and laughing under his breath. "I'll go to China myself, if Charles Elliot can't handle it."

He was speaking nonsense now, and Victoria shared a grave look with Sir Robert Peel. Finally she lowered her voice and asked,

"Sir Robert, may I ask if you might help His Royal Highness back to his rooms and see to it that he is settled into bed for the evening?"

"What? No! Victoria!" Melbourne was much too loud then, and he shook his head as he said brashly, "It's your damned birthday; I'm not going to bed at eight."

"Lord M." Victoria suddenly remembered the times he'd had to force her to leave a party because she'd been drunk. Had this been how he'd felt then, she wondered? Had he been desperate and humiliated on her behalf, the way she felt now for him? She reached for his right hand and squeezed hard, so hard that he winced a little. He seemed to wake then, blinking quickly and clearing his throat as if roused from some sort of dream. Realisation came over his face, and his sharp cheekbones reddened.

"I apologise, Sir Robert," he said, his voice much softer. "Perhaps it would... perhaps I ought to retire to spare anyone any further..."

He trailed off then, looking dizzy where he stood. Robert Peel handed his glass of wine to a passing servant, and he assured Victoria,

"I'll see to it that he's comfortably abed, Ma'am. Please, try to enjoy the party, if only for the sake of your guests."

"Thank you, Sir Robert," Victoria nodded. Melbourne looked very apologetic, and he flicked his eyebrows up as he said,

"It doesn't matter if I die, anyway, does it? Now, I mean. You are only twenty-three today, Victoria, and I -"

"Please go to bed, Lord M," she whispered, but he continued,

"I was never going to be there all the way for you; I'm too old. Even if I were healthy, you'd have to grow old without me. You need to learn how to lose me, Victoria. You'll be far happier if you can just get it through your mind that you'll be burying me sooner rather than later. You'd have buried me either way, so it doesn't matter."

"Your Highness," said Sir Robert Peel, reaching for Melbourne's elbow. "Let us get out of this hot, smoky room, eh? I'd like to discuss China with you in more detail."

"I love you," Melbourne told Victoria, as if he hadn't heard Peel at all. "I love you so very much, but you were always going to grow old without me. I'm sorry I'll be leaving you sooner than you'd hoped. But you'll go on without me. England will go on without me. Even my Little Lamb will -"

"Please. Please, please." Victoria shook her head wildly, and then suddenly her mother had come up behind her and was pulling her away. Victoria watched as Sir Robert Peel gently guided Melbourne from the ballroom, and then she cried. Right there, right in front of everyone, at her own birthday party, she cried, making no effort at all to stem the awful flood of tears.

* * *

 

"I am more sorry than I can say."

He was sitting up in his bed when Victoria walked in, and she could immediately tell that he was much more himself than he'd been earlier. She shut the door, sighing as she turned over the hairbrush she'd absentmindedly carried with her into Melbourne's rooms.

"Everyone was worried," she admitted. "I was very worried. I worry still. I worry that one time you won't come back to me."

"Well, I promise to always try," Melbourne said sorrowfully, and Victoria shook her head.

"You promised to try and dance with me."

"I did try," he whispered. "I failed you at that. I am sorry."

"No. You've nothing to be sorry for."

Skerrett had already brushed Victoria's hair, but she dragged the brush over her locks again anyway as she stalked toward the bed. Perhaps Melbourne's sister Emily had been right to be so comforted by the simple act of brushing hair, Victoria thought. She climbed up into the bed with Melbourne, and he asked quietly,

"May I do that for you, Ma'am? Please?"

She handed him the brush, and he used his right hand to carefully go over her straight, neat hair. It felt good, and Victoria shut her eyes against the feel of it. For a long moment, they sat in silence, until Victoria reminded him,

"We were at Brocket Hall, and I'd hurt my ankle. You'd carried me all the way back like hero from a Greek myth. And then I had to rest, and one day you came into my dressing room and took the brush from Skerrett and started combing through all my tangles. Do you remember that, Lord M? Please tell me that you remember it."

"I remember it," he murmured, "and I remember what came next, too."

Victoria felt her nipples peak beneath her nightgown at the memory, and she sucked in air a little as she whispered,

"Remind me. What did happen, exactly?"

The brush stopped moving behind her head. She watched Melbourne set it down on the blankets, and he used his right hand to gently push aside her hair. He leaned to touch his lips to her neck, and then his mouth was beside her ear as he breathed,

"You got down onto your knees. You took me in your mouth. And it felt like heaven."

"Did it?" Victoria turned her head just a little, just enough that her mouth brushed against his, and Melbourne grunted softly as he nodded. Victoria turned a little more and ran her fingers along his jaw, and she asked, "When you spilled yourself all over me... when there were little rivers and puddles of your essence on my neck and chest... did you like that, Lord M?"

"Yes." He brought his right hand up to cup Victoria's breast through her nightgown, and his breath hitched a little. He let out a choked little sound and whispered,

"Please. I want you. Please, Victoria."

She shook her head, confused, and turned more to face him.

"I thought... I didn't think it was working properly. It has been a good many weeks."

He wordlessly reached for her hand and brought it to the front of his nightshirt. Victoria slid her fingers beneath the hem of his nightshirt, and she gasped a little when she was able to grip the shaft of his hardened cock. His green eyes were pleading then, and he said quickly,

"I don't know if it will last. I hate to rush you, but..."

"No. I understand." Victoria hurried to slide her nightgown up and off, and she helped Melbourne slither out of his own nightshirt. She encouraged him to lie down on his back, and as he settled against the pillows, his sculpted chest heaved with obvious want. Victoria played with her own breasts a little, feeling herself go just wet enough that she knew she would be able to receive him properly. She straddled him and lined him up, slowly sliding down onto him as he hissed out a breath and smiled crookedly.

"My God, have I missed that," he groaned. He arched his back a little as Victoria started to sway, and his right hand flew to clutch at her hip. He found her eyes with his and whispered, "Years and years and years and years I lived without you, and now I have no idea at all how I did such a thing."

"Then you must know why I can not do it without you," Victoria said, rolling her hips hard against him. She shook her head and insisted, "Those awful things you said earlier... you must never say such things again."

"I promise to try not to," Melbourne nodded. "I love you. I am here with you, Victoria."

"Mmmph..." He felt very good inside of her all of a sudden, as if he were harder and larger than he'd ever been. She swayed up and down, forward and back, losing herself to the rhythm of riding him as his hand coursed up her ribcage and back down to her hips.

"The timing," she thought aloud. She stared at the ceiling, realising that she'd stopped bleeding ten days earlier. She licked her bottom lip, lowering her gaze, and she said very seriously, "I want you to try and put a child on me, Lord M."

He did not question her, not even for a moment. He just nodded and shut his eyes, and his mouth fell open a bit as his hand tightened. She could feel him coming a moment later - the way he grew and twitched inside of her - and she watched his face twist a little as he released the breath he'd been holding.

She stayed there atop him for a very long while, even after he'd gone soft and had slipped out of her body. She bent down to kiss his lips, and he reminded her,

"There are no guarantees, you must remember. Some people try for many months. We do not know what effect, if any, my condition has had on my ability to... you know, to put a child on you."

"Well, we shall simply have to do quite a lot of trying," Victoria insisted. She pulled back a little and nodded. "We shall try very often."

He smiled a little, his face uneven, and he sighed.

"I like that idea very much. Happy birthday, my magnificent queen... my beautiful wife."

"Thank you." She bent to kiss him again, and this time he captured her mouth with his and pulled her into the deepest kiss she'd had from him in months. Victoria let herself get lost there, still atop him, his right arm rubbing her back, his tongue in her mouth. She let herself get lost, and then she reminded herself over and over of one simple reality: He was still here.

**Author's Note: Poor Lord M! Making a bit of a fool of himself at the birthday party, though I'm sure people would be more worried than anything else. At least they made up for it later. :} I'm still on vacation, so I'm writing whenever I just have a spare half hour. Apologies for resulting typos and messiness. I will do my best to reply to all comments later tonight or tomorrow - please know that I am reading them all and value them all very much and will answer them as soon as my schedule allows.**


	39. Chapter 39

"Oh, Miss Skerrett, I certainly hope you've something light for me to wear today. It is so dreadfully hot outside." Victoria used her folding silk fan to try and cool herself. It did not work.

"We have a lovely lightweight silk gown, Ma'am," Skerrett said, holding up a pale pink confection. Victoria sighed and nodded, and she started to pull herself from her little chair. The moment she did, she felt an awful telltale rush, and she shut her eyes.

"Oh, no," she murmured, hiking up her petticoats and slowly dipping her fingers into the slit of her open drawers. When she pulled her hand out and opened her eyes, she saw vibrant, scarlet blood staining her fingers. She shook a little where she stood, and Skerrett said,

"Oh, that's no problem, Ma'am. I'll fetch you fresh drawers and some rags, Ma'am."

"Thank you," Victoria muttered as Skerrett backed from the dressing room.

She stared at her bloody fingers for a very long while, for so long that the blood began to dry and go a bit brown. She felt queasy, and then she felt an awful spike of grief. How many months would she have to try? She needed one more child from him, one more piece of her Lord M's legacy. Her heart sank as she moved to the wash stand and used a wet rag to scrub off her fingers and wipe between her legs. By the time she was changed and dressed, Victoria found herself with a hand on her abdomen. As Skerrett buttoned up the back of her dress, Victoria said quietly,

"I had cramping all day yesterday; I tried so very hard to ignore it."

Skerrett's fingers paused on the buttons, and then she said in a kind voice,

"I'm sorry you're disappointed, Ma'am. Can't be easy."

"No, I suppose it can't," Victoria said.

An hour later, she was working on her boxes, wishing for all the world that she could be outside on the stuffy day. They'd thrown the windows open, at least, to grant her some ventilation, and she could hear voices in the gardens. After awhile, Victoria heard the unmistakable squeal of little William, and then she heard laughter she knew to belong to Lord M. She smiled a bit and finished signing one letter, rising from her desk and moving over to the window.

She stared outside, just watching the scene before her unfold. Melbourne was using his right hand to hold William's, and then, all of a sudden, little William let go.

Victoria gasped as she watched Emma make an elated gesture, and then William took a full three steps. One foot, then the other, then the other, and then he fell square onto his bottom. Melbourne rushed to scoop him up in his right arm, his left arm still hanging limply at his side. He was saying kind things to the little boy, Victoria knew. She found herself grinning, palm pressed to the glass, and then she saw Melbourne turn, his eyes going directly to the window where she stood. Victoria waved to him and nodded, and Melbourne's face suddenly lit up with the knowledge that Victoria had seen.

She found herself dashing out of her drawing room then, through corridors and down staircases until she burst outside and ran through the gardens. William grinned widely as she approached him, and Victoria descended downward, her skirts billowing about her. Melbourne took William's hand in his and toddled him a few steps away from Victoria.

"Will you walk for me, Little Lamb?" She tried to keep her voice steady, and William just said,

"Yes. Yes, Mama."

"All right. Come, sweet darling." Victoria held her arms out, and Melbourne let go of William's hand. He gave him a little press on the back to encourage him moving, and then William ambled like a drunkard toward Victoria. She encapsulated him in her arms and kissed his soft, curly hair, and she laughed. For the first time in what felt like ages, she found herself happy, crouching out on the lawn with her son in her arms and her husband smiling down at her.

* * *

 

"Lord M." Victoria turned in the bed and faced him. He seemed awfully tired tonight, probably from so much joyful activity during the day, but he blinked his eyes open and smiled a little.

"Hello, Ma'am."

"I am bleeding, I'm afraid," Victoria informed him crisply. He nodded and whispered,

"I thought as much. You seemed uncomfortable yesterday."

"How very perceptive you have always been," Victoria complained. She licked her bottom lip and said helplessly, "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."

"Sorry?" Melbourne scoffed and shook his head. He brought his right hand up to her hair and pulled her face down to kiss her, and then he said firmly, "There will be many opportunities to try for a child, Victoria. I can promise you that."

She just stared at him for a while then, wanting to lock the vision of him into her memory forever. She finally curled her lips up a bit and said,

"Poor Emma's got a real challenge on her hands now."

"Because our Little Lamb has learnt about walking? Yes, I suppose you're right. No matter; I shall unlearn walking for him soon enough."

Victoria scowled. "Why would you even say such a thing as that?"

He hesitated, and Victoria felt a little spike of dread go through her. Melbourne finally admitted,

"The weakness periodically reaches my leg now. My left leg only. I... stumbled... today. I was going down some stairs and I quite lost my footing. I would have thought it a fluke, but it happened again later walking down a corridor."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne shook his head.

"No, Ma'am; we live in a palace. Both instances were witnessed by a sufficiently humiliating array of people who also helped me."

"Oh, Lord M." Victoria huffed out a breath and shut her eyes. She must have had them closed for a very long while, because Melbourne finally asked,

"What are you thinking of?"

"Stars over the ocean," Victoria said. "Standing there with you, staring up at the stars."

"There are stars here in London," Melbourne noted. "I seem to remember gifting you a telescope several years ago. Have you still got it?"

"Of course I have," Victoria said indignantly. She opened her eyes and smiled a little at him as she slid off the bed. She went over to a bureau of personal curiosities, and she rifled about until she pulled out a wooden box. Then she cracked it open and took out the telescope he'd given her. She opened it and gestured toward the seat at the recessed window.

"Come and sit with me, will you?"

He seemed to be trying then, really trying to get off the bed, but he winced every time he moved, and after a moment he seemed catastrophically out of breath. Victoria rushed over to him and extended her arms, helping to guide him down the steps and over to the window.

"Just stiff in the middle of the night," he insisted. "No old man moves easily, much less one who's had apoplexy. I am sorry for my slowness, Ma'am."

"Stop apologising," she scolded him. She helped him sit on the cushioned window seat, and she curled up beside him, pulling open her telescope. She used it to peer up into the heavens, but all she saw were glowing white dots made larger.

"I do not know what I'm viewing," she confessed. "My astronomy education was... practically non-existent. I know so very little of the stars and planets."

"May I help you?" Melbourne asked, and Victoria pulled her eye from the telescope.

"Yes, please."

He took the telescope from her and stared out the window for awhile, finally seeming to settle on something. He gestured for Victoria to come near, and she snuggled against his chest as he guided the telescope back to her eye.

"Do you see a set of five stars? Rather like a W?" His voice was soft beside Victoria's ear, and she shivered a little. She nodded once she found the pattern he was referencing. He stroked up her arm with his right hand then, and he told her, "That is the constellation Casseopeia. Named after the vain queen of Greek myth."

"So many of the stars and constellations have tragic namesakes," Victoria pointed out. She stared through the glass at the stars, and she murmured, "I try to find some meaning in them, but all they are is pretty."

"Do you know... Shakespeare despised astrology," Melbourne mused. "He said, 'It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.' When he was a boy, a star exploded in the Casseopeia constellation. All the world's views on how the universe was structured began to shift. Suddenly it seemed impossible that the Earth could be at the centre of it all. It is a difficult thing, realising we ourselves are not the guiding middle. I can not imagine such a revelation."

Victoria turned her face away from the telescope, feeling suddenly in awe of him, of her beloved Lord M. She watched as his green eyes studied the sky outside, and she felt his hand go up and down her arm. Then, after awhile, his hand stilled, and he blinked a few times, and he shut his eyes.

"My head," he whispered, and Victoria frowned. Before she could say anything, he told her, "It hurts so very often now. More often than not. I grow weary of it. I'm sorry."

"No, it's me who must apologise," Victoria said, folding up the telescope. "I woke you and made you rise from bed. That was stupid of me. I'm always so very stupid."

She started to move away from him, but Melbourne reached to pull her back. It was not until she was curled up against him again that she looked down at the hand holding her forearm, and then she breathed,

"That is your left hand."

Melbourne seemed confused for a moment. He pulled his hand away from Victoria's arm and slowly, carefully moved his fingers. He made a fist and then opened it again, and then he snorted a little laugh.

"It'll likely be useless again by morning," he said, "but at least for now I have it."

"Please..." Victoria picked up both his hands and put them on her cheeks, shutting her eyes and relishing the feel of him holding her securely the way he'd always done. He pulled her closer and kissed her, and Victoria let out a tortured little sound against his lips.

"I want you," she whispered, but he smirked and reminded her,

"There would be mess for the ages, Ma'am."

"Damn it all," Victoria swore, making Melbourne's eyebrows go up in surprise. She shook her head and glanced between his legs, and then she started to ask him,

"May I... what if I... if I used my -"

"Yes." Melbourne nodded almost desperately, and Victoria found herself sliding off the window seat and arranging herself on her knees. She reached beneath his nightshirt and found him half hard, and she asked him in a low voice,

"Is that what you want, Lord M? You want to feel your tip hit the back of my throat?"

"God have mercy. Yes. Yes, Victoria." Both of Melbourne's hands tightened on his bare knees, and Victoria dipped to drag her tongue up from the bottom of his shaft. He hissed and bucked his hips a little, and she teased his tip with little flicks of her tongue. He groaned rather loudly at that, and Victoria asked him,

"Will you paint me with your seed, Lord M, or shall I swallow it?"

He did not answer then, and for a horrifying moment, Victoria thought she'd been entirely too frank. She'd disgusted him, probably. She stilled her hand on him and looked upward, trying to find his eyes. He was staring out the window again, and she said hesitantly,

"Lord M?"

"Hmm? Oh. Oh... oh."

He looked down, apparently quite shocked to see Victoria kneeling with his manhood in her hand. She felt her cheeks go hot, and she slowly pulled herself up to stand. She no longer required explanations for times like these. She knew what had happened. He had lost a bit of time; he'd gone somewhere else and had come back. He would not remember looking at the telescope with her, she realised. Her eyes burned at that, but she just tucked his softening member away under his nightshirt and informed him,

"Things got a bit naughty is all. Back to bed with us both, I suppose."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but Victoria shook her head quickly and forced an awkward little smile. Then she stared into his pale green eyes, thinking that there was something she could not let him forget.

"What did the Little Lamb do today?"

Melbourne seemed to be thinking very hard then, his brow furrowing in frustration. He shut his eyes, and suddenly a look of peace crossed his features. He opened his eyes slowly, one side of his mouth turning upward.

"He walked," Melbourne said at last. "Our Little Lamb walked."

Victoria nodded and held out her hand for him to take. He would need help getting back into bed, and it was help she was more than willing to provide.

**Author's Note: What do you do when you have insomnia on vacation? Why, you sit on the balcony on the 58th floor of your Vegas hotel, drink gin, and write fanfiction, of course. :) Thanks for reading and please do take a moment to leave feedback if you don't mind. Thanks very much!**


	40. Chapter 40

"And so he's already been dismissed, Ma'am, but..."

Sir Robert Peel glanced over to the door as it swung open. Penge stood there, hesitating for a moment before he bowed.

"Your Majesty, His Royal Highness, Prince William."

Victoria frowned a little as Melbourne came into the drawing room. He looked even more confused than she felt, and he immediately looked apologetically at Peel.

"Pardon me, Sir Robert," he said politely, "I did not realise you and the Queen were meeting. Ma'am, I shall return later."

"Did you need something, Lord M?" Victoria asked. She noticed something strange then; his hands were clasped together behind his back in the way he'd done before he'd lost most of the movement on his left side. He was bouncing slowly on the balls of his feet, and his mouth was twitching a little as if he were suppressing a smile. Victoria stood from her desk and gestured to the set of divans facing one another. "Sir Robert, may we sit here? Join us, Lord M."

"Oh, no. I couldn't, Ma'am." Melbourne flicked his green eyes to Peel and said, "I'm sure Sir Robert hardly wants a former prime minister barging into a meeting about matters of state."

"Please, Your Highness," Peel said, a little gently, "join us."

Melbourne did then, sinking onto the divan beside Victoria and folding his hands together in his lap. Peel noticed it, too; Victoria watched his eyes flash with realisation. He cleared his throat and said,

"I was just telling Her Majesty that Captain Elliot has already been dismissed as Plenipotentiary in China."

"Yes, he did rather miss the mark with his demands, didn't he?" Melbourne mused. "We got Hong Kong and hardly anything else."

"So Elliot is gone," Victoria shrugged. "What now? What do we make of the deal that Britain was given?"

"The plan, Ma'am, is to quickly settle Hong Kong. There is hardly anything there. We need a real foothold in the region, and Hong Kong needs quick and extensive construction."

"And who will live there?" Victoria asked. "Will we send British settlers, the way we are doing in New Zealand."

"I would recommend a different tack," Melbourne said. "I think that populating the island with Chinese people is wiser. Educate them using the British method; teach them all English. Let them blend their Chinese ways with our English ones. Then you'll have a large, stable population that's loyal to the Crown but are Chinese in nature."

Peel nodded. "I agree with the Prince Consort, Ma'am. This strategy would allow Britain to rule in the region, to worry over trade instead of defence... it is by far the most stable option."

"Then I hope Parliament will vote to quickly undertake the measures you are proposing," Victoria said. Peel glanced between his queen and his former political rival, and he said carefully,

"I wonder, Sir, if you might be good enough to speak to Parliament on it. Hearing from a former Whig who's now apolitical... it might help me unify a bit."

"You want me to speak to Parliament?" Melbourne scoffed a little and shook his head sadly. "Sir Robert, I think the Queen's birthday party was evidence enough that my times of wellness are scattered and unreliable. My days of Parliamentary speeches are over, I think."

Peel gave a conciliatory nod.

"Perhaps you might help... behind the scenes, that is... to draft the proposed bill."

"That I will do," Melbourne nodded. Victoria smiled at the two men and then let her eyes settle on Melbourne's folded hands. She realised then that it was as he said; his wellness was so often fleeting. She needed her meeting with Peel to be over now. She needed this time with her Lord M. Fortunately, Peel seemed to think the same thing, and he put his hands on the back of the divan where he stood as he said in a friendly voice,

"If you've nothing more for me, Ma'am, I shall bid you a very fine day."

"That is all. Thank you, Sir Robert."

"Your Majesty. Sir." Robert Peel bowed a bit then and backed from the room with the expert movement of a man who had been doing it for some time now. Once Penge shut the door again, Victoria turned a little on the divan and covered Melbourne's hands with hers.

"You seem very well today," she mused, and he nodded quickly.

"New medicine," he said simply, and Victoria frowned and shrugged.

"What medicine is that?"

"It is a tincture," he said. "They started me on it a month ago; I'm just beginning to see effects now. A tincture of the ginkgo leaf. I believe there are other herbs and ingredients in it. A dropperful a day, they give me. I woke this morning feeling... different."

"Feeling yourself, more like," Victoria smiled. She studied his face, noticing that both sides of his lips curled up a bit. She asked him, "Have you seen William today?"

Melbourne seemed very self-satisfied then as he announced,

"I carried him on my shoulders."

"You... you what?" Victoria felt shock spike through her. Melbourne looked more amused than ever, his face serene as he said,

"It was a hot morning, and I wanted to walk in the park. Emma scolded me so ferociously the moment I put him up onto my shoulders, but I wouldn't listen. I knew... I just knew that I would be able to catch him if he fell. I knew I could hold him, so I did."

"Lord M..." Victoria had no words. The image in her mind of Melbourne taking a walk with their wispy-haired son atop his shoulders was almost too much to bear. She finally choked out, "I am sorry to have missed it. I was doing the boxes."

"We can walk again tomorrow," Melbourne said. "All of us. And then you and I might ride out. Would you like that?"

"Ride out?" Victoria repeated. She shook her head in confusion. "What if you fell?"

"Then I suppose I might wind up with a bruised ankle. You can speak from experience that there are worse things, aren't there? Who knows... perhaps I shall speak to Parliament, after all." He put his hand carefully to the side of Victoria's throat, stroking a little and making her shiver. He went a little more serious then as he noted, "The timing seems about right. What do you reckon?"

She knew what he meant. Last month they'd tried to make her conceive, and it hadn't worked. It was still a little early on the calendar, but Victoria found herself nodding and whispering,

"We could go to my bedroom. I've nothing of import for a few hours."

"Oh. I'm glad you can make time for something like this," Melbourne teased, and Victoria wanted to cry at the feeling of having him back. He stood and held his left hand out to her, and Victoria put her fingers over his. She shook her head and whispered,

"I shall have to send for Skerrett to undress me."

"I know how to take your clothes off of you, Ma'am," Melbourne said, tipping his head. "Putting them back on might prove a challenge. You can send for her later."

"William..." Victoria shut her eyes, overwhelmed by him all of a sudden. She gulped and let him lead her through the drawing room and down the little corridor that led to her bedchamber. Once they were inside, he shut the door and turned the lock. The sunlight was bright streaming though the windows, and Victoria realised they mostly had one another in the darkness. This felt stark and hot, and there was something delicious about it. She turned her back to Melbourne and stared at the dust motes floating in the streams of sunlight.

"Could you do the buttons?" Her voice trembled a little in the familiar room. She felt his fingers go to the back of her neck, gliding between her shoulder blades as she swayed a little where she stood. He started to work on the little buttons going down the back of the green silk day dress, and Victoria relished the sensation of the dress opening little by little. Melbourne said nothing as Victoria helped him yank the dress up and off. He tossed it rather carelessly over the back of the chair at the vanity, and then he faced Victoria. He stripped off his lightweight summer coat and immediately set to the buttons on his waistcoat, and Victoria was breathless as he pulled it and his white linen shirt off. She reached to drag her hands all over his bare chest, and he shut his eyes and let out a little low sound of want.

"Today I shall take you properly, Ma'am," he promised. "No lying there like a wounded animal begging you to bounce atop me. Today I mean to claim you, if you will allow me such an indulgence."

"Yes." Victoria whispered the syllable, unable to muster any real volume. She watched as Melbourne's fingers moved perfectly down the line of buttons on his breeches, and as he pushed them down with his cotton underwear. He kicked off his shoes and bent to pull off the breeches with his stockings. Once he was utterly bare, he stood back up, and then Victoria could see that he'd already gone mostly hard.

"Anticipation," he explained simply, and she just nodded. He made his way behind her again and nudged up her corset cover. He let it flutter to the ground, and then he started to unbutton her corded petticoats. Victoria stepped out of them, one after another, and finally Melbourne demanded,

"How many of these have you got on?"

"Four." Victoria grinned over her shoulder at him, stepping out of the last plain petticoat and kicking them all aside. Melbourne waved his finger in a twirl to make her turn round again, and then she could feel him untying her corset. She took a good deep breath once he'd loosened the laces, and she tried not to wonder how many other women he'd undressed in his life. That other life didn't matter, she reminded herself. Only this one, only this life they had together, was real.

"Someday I will stop carrying William," Melbourne said as he pushed the corset off and set it aside, "But it will be because he has grown. I will live to see my Little Lamb too big to ride on my shoulders. I have decided it."

"Well, if you have decided," Victoria said, "then the matter is settled. You will see your son grow into a man."

"And perhaps a daughter into a lady," Melbourne said quietly, his hands moving like magic to strip off Victoria's chemise and drawers. She bent to peel off her stockings, and when she stood, Melbourne swept her up, almost into a dancing stance. She felt the firm insistence of his erection against her belly, and she stared up into his green eyes as she whispered,

"I have missed you."

"I know." Melbourne bent to kiss her then, and with his lips a hair's breath from hers, he reminded her, "It may get bad again. It probably will. But today I can not think of such a possibility. All I can do today is carry my son and adore my wife."

"I love you," Victoria told him, and his answer was a firm, deep kiss as he guided her toward the bed. He didn't use his steps to get up; he just heaved himself and then pulled Victoria up with him. She was intoxicated then by the way he was moving, by the way he was pushing her onto her back and hovering above her. He bent to suckle one of her breasts, and his left hand massaged the other one. Victoria yelped a bit and arched her back up, her fingers tightening on the sheets as everything went warm around her. She flushed wet between her legs as he pulled at her nipple with his lips and teeth, and she cried out at the way he kissed up her chest and neck and twisted two fingers into her body.

"Lord M!" She was helpless then as he used his thumb to draw circles on her nub, as his fingers plunged and hooked and turned. She moaned like an absolute whore, and he hushed her up with a hard kiss. Her own hands finally flew to her shoulders, and she rubbed at his toned arms as he drove her closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he said after he tore his mouth from hers. He latched back onto her neck again, his hand still working wonders between her thighs, and he murmured against her flesh, "Come for me, Victoria. Now."

"All right." She shut her eyes then and fell, careening through an invisible spinning space as she clamped around his fingers. He groaned and looked awfully hungry when Victoria managed to crack her eyes back open. She was still recovering from her delicious climax when he pulled his hand from her and replaced it with his cock. He pushed himself into her in one thrust, sheathing himself so deeply that Victoria let out a wordless plea for help. He kissed her again, his hips grinding everything just so as he started to move faster and faster. His teeth were rough on her lips; his tongue was an invading beast all over her mouth and then her neck. For a moment, Victoria thought she might finish again, and she desperately held onto Melbourne's biceps as he pistoned faster and faster.

She wrenched her eyes shut, knowing that there was a good chance she'd wind up pregnant again, that she would have to give birth again. Then she remembered the sight of her Lord M, his sleeves rolled up and their swaddled newborn son in his arms, and she whispered,

"Do it, Lord M."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, driving himself so hard against Victoria that it almost hurt. His mouth crushed hers and stayed there as he grunted and slapped the sheets. She could feel him twitching inside of her, and after what felt like an eternity, he slipped out of her body. He took a trickle of his seed with him, and Victoria murmured,

"I think perhaps I ought not move for a little while. Have you got a pill... oh."

She smiled then, for he was already putting the little rectangular pillow beneath her hips to prop her up. He smiled down at her and said in a teasing voice,

"Poor Miss Skerrett will have to do your hair again, I think. There will be no question of what's happened."

"I don't care who knows that I was taken by my husband," Victoria knew. Melbourne cocked up an eyebrow and reminded her,

"There was a time when you cared quite a lot what others thought about you and I."

"Yes, well... circumstances change," Victoria said. Melbourne nodded and frowned at his left hand, making a fist slowly and opening it again. It seemed to take quite a bit of effort, and he shook his head as he scoffed.

"Circumstances do change," he said quietly. "I am feeling rather poorly, Ma'am. Perhaps I might lie with you for a little while."

"Perhaps we won't get up until dinner time," Victoria suggested as he lay beside her. He turned his face on his pillow and shrugged a little.

"Perhaps not. For my part, Ma'am, I see absolutely no good reason to do anything right now except stare at you. May I do that? May I just look at you until I've something better to do?"

Victoria laughed and nodded.

"Look all you like," she told him, curling a bit against him as she kissed the skin on his chest. She breathed him in, the warm heady feel and smell of him that she could always sense after sex. This was her Lord M, and he would see their son grow into a man. She kissed his chest again and whispered once more.

"I missed you."

"Well," Melbourne said, wrapping his arm around Victoria's shoulder and rubbing a bit, "I am here now, and that is all that matters, I hope."

"It is," she confirmed, shutting her eyes. "It is all that matters."

**Author's Note: Everybody say "THANK GOODNESS," am I right? Haha. Thanks so much for reading, and soooo many thanks for all the comments and reviews. I promise to answer all of them ASAP. I have another plane ride tomorrow, so... we'll see what happens with writing. Haha!**


	41. Chapter 41

* * *

"Enter."

Victoria lowered the book she'd been reading and glanced over to the library door, which swung open to reveal Melbourne standing there with William's hand in his. Victoria grinned as her boys came into the room, Melbourne being very patient indeed as little William staggered like a drunkard. The baby was clutching a letter in his hand, Victoria could see, and she found herself setting her book down and approaching him.

"Now you must bow, Little Lamb," Melbourne stage-whispered. "Remember, just as we practised. Like this."

He stood up a little and elegantly bowed his head and a bit of his back. Victoria watched as little William mimicked the movement, his head flying downward and his back collapsing clumsily. She laughed and clapped her hands.

"Marvelously done, darling," she told him. Then Melbourne leaned down again and murmured,

"Now go and give her our letter."

William came teetering over toward Victoria, thrusting the letter up at her. She crouched down and took it, kissing his cheek and asking,

"Did you write this yourself, Little Lamb?"

"He dictated every word," Melbourne teased. "What lies within that letter are the thoughts of the Prince of Wales alone."

"Oh, are they, now? Very well." Victoria held the letter out and said, "Help me break the seal, darling. Just like this; pull your finger through and... pop!"

William laughed as the wax broke, and Victoria smiled as she unfolded the letter and read aloud,

"Dearest Mama and Most Glorious Sovereign. What a way to begin a letter, Little Lamb. I shall continue. Papa and I ask most humbly if you might join us for a few days at Brocket Hall. It is time to learn about orchids and other magnificent flowers, you see, and Papa says he will teach me all about them with your permission. So, Mama, I ask you - Please, may we all go together to Brocket Hall? With love and admiration from your beloved son, William."

Victoria met William's wide green eyes, and she said very meaningfully,

"We shall all go to Brocket Hall so that you might learn about flowers with your Papa. What a splendid idea. We shall all go... Papa and you and I, and even the little brother or sister that will be coming soon enough."

She waited to look up, but she saw out of the corner of her eye the way Melbourne shifted on his feet. William very evidently did not understand, so she gently stroked his cheek and assured him,

"You will be a wonderful older brother, William. I am so very happy I will get to see it."

"Do you mean it, Ma'am?"

She looked up at last, nodding at Melbourne as his green eyes suddenly rimmed red. He scoffed and broke into a little laugh, and then he held his arms out.

"Oh, do come here, please."

Victoria rose and took William's hand, guiding him to where Melbourne stood. Melbourne put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her hard, and then he whispered,

"You are not afraid?"

"We have endured so very much, you and I," she replied, "that I find it would take a great cataclysm to frighten me now. You have made me brave, Lord M."

"And how are you feeling?" Melbourne asked as William squirmed beside her. Victoria shrugged helplessly.

"I've been sick six times so far today and have not kept down so much as a sip of water. Aside from that, I am perfectly well."

"I do not like that," Melbourne frowned. "I do not like you so ill as that."

"I'm sure it will improve," Victoria said, waving her hand a little. She hesitated and told him, "I have waited to let you know. I wanted to be very certain. I am at least nine weeks along now."

"Perhaps the Little Lamb and I ought to go to Brocket Hall on our own," Melbourne suggested worriedly, but Victoria shook her head and said in a firm voice,

"No, I would not miss it for all the world. We will leave tomorrow."

* * *

 

"Victoria, I think we should send you back."

"N-no... I'm... fine." Victoria held the wooden bucket firmly in her hands and knelt on the grass where they'd stopped the carriages. Melbourne had ensured that Emma Portman was keeping the Prince of Wales far away from the sight and sound of Victoria so sick, but she was still disturbed by how many could hear her retching. She felt dizzy as her body tried desperately to vomit again. There was nothing left in her stomach, and so instead she was treated to the vibrant green sight and searing taste of bile. She sobbed a little at the pain in her abdomen from the violent clenching, and she heard Melbourne ask from beside her,

"Did you eat the ginger root this morning? The crackers?"

"They came up like everything else," Victoria moaned. Melbourne held out a flask of water to her, and she gratefully poured a little into her mouth. She sipped very slowly, but almost immediately, her body rejected the water outright and sent it flying back into the bucket.

"Victoria, I have seen expecting women before," Melbourne murmured. "This is not normal. Perhaps you've caught some sort of fever. You need a doctor."

"I saw the doctor... ugh... last week." Victoria heaved again, but this time nothing came up at all. "He told me to drink lemon water. That came up, too."

"Surely there must be something they can do for you," Melbourne suggested. Victoria shrugged and felt very dizzy all of a sudden. She shut her eyes and prayed for the feeling of spinning, the intense nausea, to pass.

"Lehzen says the sicker you are, the healthier the child," she finally muttered, and Melbourne scoffed.

"Hell take Lehzen. I want you well."

"I think the worst of it has passed," Victoria said, staring into the disgusting bucket. "Shall I just dump it?"

"You don't fret over it at all," Melbourne said. "I shall send someone back for the bucket. You come with me."

He scooped her off the ground before she knew what was happening, and when she stared up at his face, he looked almost angry.

"You are going back to Buckingham Palace, Ma'am," he said, hauling her into their carriage. She opened her mouth to protest, but Melbourne said,

"William and I will manage just fine with the orchids, and we will only be gone a few days. You need to see your doctor again. I do not mean to boss you about, but you must go back to London, and I will hear no more argument."

She tried to argue, but then the last bit of water she'd had to drink came heaving up inside the carriage, splattering all over the floor and looking horrid mixed with bile, and Victoria could not find it in herself to protest.

* * *

 

"What do you mean, she hasn't had water in three days?"

Victoria tried to peer around the doorway into her drawing room, but she wound up just laying her head back on her pillows. She was far too dizzy to watch Melbourne argue with her doctor.

"We have tried everything, sir," the doctor insisted. "We even gave her some laudanum to -"

"You gave opium to the pregnant queen of England?" Melbourne scoffed and shook his head madly. "She needs something to stop her from retching up every bite, every sip... she may be carrying another prince, or a Princess Royal, and you can not find some way to allow her to eat or drink?"

"I confess, Your Highness, that I have never before seen such sickness in a woman who is with child. I do fear for her, and for the child, but we have very limited options available to us. We are trying everything."

"Try harder," Melbourne snarled. "We are speaking of my wife and my child. We are speaking of your queen. You must try harder."

"Yes, Your Highness," the doctor said quietly. Victoria tipped her head further back, fighting the sensation that the room was spinning. She felt the terrible acidic sear of bile in her mouth but resisted the urge to spit it into the chamber pot beside her. She was so thirsty, as if she were lost in an interminable summer, trapped in a desert. Her lips were cracking and had bled earlier, so her maids had been dabbing at her skin with a damp sponge all day. But every sip, every attempted nibble of food, meant an hour of gut-wrenching sickness, so she had given up.

Melbourne finally came into the bedroom and shooed the maids away, and he looked very angry as he pulled a chair up beside the bed. He sat and stared at Victoria for a very long moment, and she managed to blink through the dryness in her eyes and ask hoarsely,

"How was Brocket Hall?"

"You can not go on like this," he said simply, and Victoria felt an ache in her chest that was unrelated to her illness. She shook her head and whispered,

"You must tell me how the Little Lamb liked your greenhouse."

Melbourne sighed and shrugged. "He destroyed a few orchids, entirely by accident. I did not mind; he was simply curious. He liked my tropical flowers, the hibiscus and others. He liked the palm leaves. 'Pretty.' He said it about everything. 'Pretty, pretty.'"

Victoria smiled a little at that thought and shut her eyes, imagining her dear Lord M with his sleeves rolled up, crouched down with William beside some pink hibiscus. The thought made her eyes burn, but she was too dry for tears.

"Please try and drink some water," Melbourne begged her, sounding a little frightened. Victoria opened her eyes and shook her head.

"I'll be even sicker if I do."

"That makes no sense at all, Victoria," Melbourne growled. He seized her hand and said, "They say you have kept absolutely nothing down in days. And now you feel very hot to the touch, as though you've a fever. That's from being dried out, you know. You must have something to drink. Are you hot? Let me pull your blankets down."

He was rambling, fretting like a mother hen, and Victoria could hardly blame him. She was a mere ten or eleven weeks into this pregnancy. If the sickness did not improve significantly soon, the prospects were dire. Earlier that day, the Duchess of Kent had declared that the child inside Victoria's womb would kill her, and she'd been dragged, crying, by the doctor, who had said such talk would only harm the queen.

"Victoria..." Melbourne's voice had changed then, and Victoria lowered her eyes to him as he pulled the blankets back. Then her eyes continued downward, and she saw the shimmering wet stain, scarlet and bold. Blood. Blood all over her sheets, on the bottom side of the blanket. She shifted a little and felt a solid rush of it, as if she were being drained of all the blood she'd ever had.

Then she realised... there would be no child. Not like this.

Everything was a blur then. The doctor was called back, along with the maids. Victoria was being sponged off with water and soap; her linens were being changed by quick hands. The doctor was lecturing Melbourne about how he wasn't surprised, about how there was no way a pregnancy could carry on under the circumstances of Victoria's extreme sickness. Melbourne was shouting back, and for a moment Victoria thought the two men might break into fisticuffs. Finally she turned her head from where she stood being washed, and she said quietly,

"Lord M... perhaps it was not meant to be."

He was quiet then, looking utterly defeated, like his life had pulled out the last of his ability to fight. He threw his hands up and shook his head, and right there in front of everyone, he admitted,

"No, Ma'am. Perhaps it was not meant to be."

* * *

 

A week later, Victoria was feeling almost herself again. The bleeding had mostly stopped, and the miscarriage had completed, according to the doctors who had sorted through all the macabre detritus. Victoria had stopped vomiting mere hours after she'd miscarried. She'd kept water down the next day and every day thereafter, and she'd been able to eat normally the last three days.

Now she stood in the doorway of her son's room, watching silently as Melbourne read a storybook to William. They sat by the window, facing away from her, and it was like a dream to see it. Melbourne seemed so very comfortable with William there on his lap, telling the story quietly but animatedly to keep the boy interested. After awhile, William seemed to be yawning, and Victoria heard Melbourne murmur that it was time for bed. Victoria had already said her goodnight, so she let Melbourne lift William and kiss his cheeks and hand him over to Emma Portman. As Melbourne came out of the nursery, he shut the door and said gravely to Victoria,

"We need to talk, Ma'am."

She frowned a little but followed him down the corridor, into her drawing room, and then through to her bedroom. He gestured for the bed, and Victoria crawled up in her nightgown and silk dressing gown. He paced with his arms crossed over his chest, and he shook his head as he told her firmly,

"You may not ever be pregnant again."

"You say that like a command," Victoria noted. He snapped his eyes up to her and said,

"You were dying, Victoria."

She scoffed. "I think that is a gross exaggeration of the situation. I'm sure that I -"

"Ho many days do you suppose the human body can survive without water? You'd gone three days. Would you like to know how many you had left?" Melbourne's green eyes flashed wildly, and he shook his head as he said, "I need you. William needs you. Your country needs you. You have given the people a Prince of Wales. Now give me the reassurance that I will not... that you will not..."

Victoria dragged her fingers over her braid, thinking of how many times they had feared the other's death. She finally nodded and conceded,

"It is not wise. It may not even be possible. You are right, Lord M. Just like always. So, what... will you never put yourself inside me again?"

"I mean to be exceptionally careful," he said. "I have consulted with a physician known to specialise in the prevention of conception."

Victoria's mouth fell open. "I certainly hope you have been discreet."

He tipped his head and reminded her, "A little money buys a heavy silence. I have purchased for you - with my own private funds, not my allowance - a large supply of a tincture of Queen Anne's Lace and Wild Carrot. This, along with careful and strict schedule adherence and my withdrawing... these are the only circumstances under which I will put myself in you, Victoria. I can not put a child on you. It seems to me as though some divine message is being sent on that matter."

"Fine." Victoria tried to erase from her mind the idea of having a daughter, of William having a brother. She tried to resign herself to appreciate the one child she did have and not to mourn the ones who had never even existed. She licked her bottom lip, relishing the ability to do so without vomiting, and she realised he'd probably been right. It would have killed her.

"What went wrong?" She found Melbourne's eyes, and he shrugged helplessly.

"The doctors could neither explain nor cure the problem, Ma'am," he reminded her. "I find I do not much care about why it happened. All I care about is that the Little Lamb and I have you for many years to come."

"I still worry over you," she said. "I worry about you every day."

Melbourne sighed. "I think you and I need to go away, Ma'am. Perhaps to... to Windsor, at least. Just a little time to recuperate properly, the both of us."

"Will they be angry at me? Peel and all the rest of them? What about William?" Victoria picked anxiously at the blankets, and Melbourne shook his head.

"William will be just fine here, and you know that. You and I need a week at Windsor. Please, Ma'am... say that we will go and ride out together, that we will read to one another and simply enjoy the other's company. Just for a little while."

She finally managed a half smile, for the idea was intoxicating, and she nodded.

"Yes, Lord M," she said. "Though it is hardly my favourite place, we shall go to Windsor, you and I. And there, with you, I think perhaps I might finally stop worrying."

**Author's Note: For those who have not experienced the life-threatening, terrifying hell of severe hyperemesis gravidarum in person - congratulations! Lucky you! Ha! I nearly died from it during my pregnancy with my son, and it did lead me to miscarry my second pregnancy. So this storyline is certainly born of personal experience. I do feel like it might have been something that could have happened to Victoria if the stars had aligned wrong, and she was so terrified of pregnancy/childbirth. I know some might be disappointed that Victoria (in this story) is not producing happy babies from healthy pregnancies one after the other, but that just isn't how life usually works out. But now that they're both going to Windsor to relax, can they stop focusing on losing one another and finally enjoy one another? I promise the next chapter will be significantly more upbeat, more optimistic, and more romantic. :)**


	42. Chapter 42

"I don't suppose the day could be any lovelier."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Melbourne glanced around as he and Victoria strolled through the terraced Moat Garden of Windsor. She'd actually put a riding costume on, but had still been uncomfortable from her miscarriage when she'd tried to sit in her sidesaddle. Melbourne had gamely agreed to walk the gardens instead. The air was crisp and cool and carried the bite of autumn, but the sun was vibrant and cast a certain warmth upon Victoria's cheeks. She paused where she stood. shutting her eyes and tipping her head back a little. She breathed in the clean scent of the gardens, listened to the water from a nearby fountain and the birds in the trees, and she sighed.

"Peace," she heard Melbourne say quietly. "Here there is peace."

"At long last," Victoria nodded. She finally lowered her face and stared at him, noticing how his eyes matched the lawns and leaves around them. She smiled a bit and told him, "I think you have the most stunning eyes in the entire world, Lord M."

He seemed amused, and he shook his head with a cheeky smile. "You've not seen all the eyes in the world, Ma'am. With respect, how could you possibly know?"

"How could any eyes be more entrancing than yours?" She stepped closer to him and put her black gloves on his cheeks. "It is impossible."

"Victoria." He raised his own hand to cover hers, and he tipped his face against her grip a little. "I was so afraid. For you, for me, for William. I have spent so much time of late being very afraid."

"Have I ruined your life?" Victoria asked seriously, and when Melbourne looked horrified, she said, "I have brought you nothing but fear and suffering, I think."

"No." He shook his head adamantly. "You did not cause my apoplexy, Victoria. What you did is help me heal, by giving me a reason to keep living. That is something at which you have always excelled. Since the moment I met you, you have been my reason to go on."

Victoria lowered her hands and let him squeeze them a bit. She just stared up at him again, unable to move from where she stood because of how very enthralled she was. His face looked older these days, she thought. His hair was more grey; there were lines where none had existed before. And perhaps he'd been right, even in his embarrassing public meltdown at her birthday party, to point out that she was never going to be an old woman with him by her side. Eventually he'd be much older than this, and then he would die. That was her truth. But she had married him anyway.

"Everyone dies at one point or another," Melbourne said, as if he'd read her mind, "but I was not ready to lose you, nor to leave you. We have much time together still, I think. Perhaps I did have a life before you, before William. But this life, the one I am living with you now, Ma'am, is the greatest life any man could be given."

"I love you," she whispered, for she lacked his eloquence had little else to say. He squeezed her hands more firmly and bent to touch his lips to hers. Victoria huffed, wanting more, and she suggested, "Let's lie down."

He furrowed his brows in confusion and looked around. "What, on the wet grass?"

"Yes." Victoria stepped away from him then, knowing that she probably looked ridiuculous lowering herself to the damp garden lawn and flopping backward. She adjusted her skirts and pulled her riding hat off, knowing she was mussing her braids and not caring. She folded her hands over her stomach and stared up at the wispy clouds floating by. Eventually Melbourne appeared beside her, sitting with one leg outstretched and the other bent up. He drummed his fingers on his riding breeches and asked,

"Your Majesty, why exactly are you lying on the grass?"

"It is so rare that I properly examine the sky," Victoria noted. "This is British sky; it is the air over England. Am I queen of this, too?"

"I think so," Melbourne said. "The soil and the water and the people. The air. I think you are queen of it all, Ma'am. You are certainly the queen of the man beside you."

"You less than the rest of them" Victoria insisted, but Melbourne picked at a blade of grass and said,

"Me most of all. I have been properly conquered by you. William I was an utter amateur compared to your conquering skills, Victoria. Do you know when I first realised that I was in love with you?"

"No," she said, raising her eyes up to him. "When?"

He stared off at the fountain across the garden. "It was when you had managed to convince me to be your prime minister again. I hadn't told you yet that I would do it. You were unveiling your portrait, and you couldn't do it. You could pull the cord, so I came over and helped you and told you that I would be your prime minister. And there was a look in your eye, as if I'd given you the very best gift on Earth."

"You had," Victoria nodded. "You had given me yourself again. It would have been impossible to feel happier in that moment."

"I stared at the portrait," he said, "and then I stared at you, clapping like everyone else, and something inside me began to scream, to ring like bells against the walls of my mind. Love. I realised it right then. I loved you."

"And you love me still, Lord M?" Victoria asked. Melbourne shut his eyes and nodded.

"Every single day more than the one before, Ma'am."

They were quiet then, for it did not feel as though any more words were needed just then. Melbourne sat picking aimlessly at the grass, and Victoria stared at the clouds, and the birds chirped merrily in the branches nearby. And it was enough - more than enough. It was so very sufficient that they stayed there for hours until both their stomachs were crying out for dinner and the sun was nearly below the horizon. Finally, reluctantly, Victoria let Melbourne heave her off the ground, and she walked with him back to the castle.

* * *

 

"The bleeding is long gone, is it not?" Melbourne asked as he came into the bedroom that had been assigned to the queen. Victoria swallowed hard and nodded, but she pointed out,

"I've no sense of timing yet."

"No. It would not yet be safe to... you know, for me to be inside you. But I wonder if you might be willing to try something a little... different." Melbourne's cheeks coloured where he stood, and Victoria felt her stomach clench with anticipation. She nodded again, silently, wondering just what he meant. Melbourne was wordless and trembling as he stripped off his robe. He took his nightshirt off, too, and Victoria noticed that his manhood was a little firm. She was surprised at that, but then she realised... anticipation. He pulled the tie from his robe out of the garment and looked at it in his hands for a moment, and Victoria wondered why he had it.

"I would like to play with your breasts," he said, finally climbing up onto the bed. Victoria just nodded, wondering if she'd ever be able to speak properly again. He so often rendered her speechless. She let him peel off her nightgown and toss it aside, and then he stared down at her small, round breasts and gulped. He blinked a few times, his eyelids fluttering, and he whispered, "Put your hands above your head."

She was surprised by the way he'd bossed her, but the flush of wet between her legs told her she liked it. She slid her arms up until her hands were over her head on the pillow. Melbourne licked his bottom lip and brought the tie from his robe up to her wrists. He moved gently and slowly then, finding her eyes and murmuring,

"Tell me I'm allowed."

"You're allowed," she nodded, realising then that he meant to bind her up. That was an intensely arousing idea, and as he carefully tied the sash, she pulled a little and relished her inability to separate her wrists. She moaned softly, feeling an intense need to be touched between her legs. Melbourne knelt beside her, and his fingers started to trace the shape of her breasts. One hand on each, carefully following the curves and lines that shaped her chest, he brushed his fingertips and knuckles everywhere. Her nipples were pert and firm at once, peaking in the cool air making her shiver.

"Lord M," she whispered, but he shook his head and told her,

"I'll get to it all, I promise."

Her mouth fell open at the way he'd taken control, and her breath quickened between her lips. She was shocked when he bent down and blew some warm air over the skin of her breasts, ignoring the nipples and seeming to worship the soft flesh elsewhere. Finally - finally - he suckled one nipple between his lips and started to roll his tongue over it. Victoria yelped when he nipped her, his teeth careful, and she cried out loudly when he sucked hard. He immediately moved to the other side and repeated the process, teasing and then sucking hard. His hands grew more rough, squeezing her breasts just so as his mouth moved from one nipple to the other. Victoria writhed and felt the insistent throbbing between her legs grow almost intolerable. Then his mouth locked onto hers, his tongue driving between her lips and dragging over the roof of her mouth. She started to move her bound hands downward, but Melbourne instantly pinned them to the pillow and groaned into the fingers laced through Victoria's as he held her hands down, and he moved his mouth to her neck.

She couldn't take it then. His tongue was lathing, his lips sucking at the places below her ear and at the crook of her neck. His fingers played with hers as he held her hands fast to the pillows. And his other hand rolled her aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Suddenly the swollen, warm sensation between her legs snapped into something far deeper and more satisfying. Her ears went hot and she saw spots before her eyes, and she cried out,

"Lord M! I'm... I'm..."

"Yes," he whispered beside her, sucking her earlobe between his teeth and tightening his grip on her wrists. She felt herself coming then, really and truly, without anything ever having made contact with her womanhood. She was shocked by that, by the way her walls were clamping, untouched and yet incredibly stimulated. She arched her back up and shut her eyes as she rode the long wave of pleasure. After a moment, Melbourne's hand left her wrists, and she opened her eyes to see that he'd straddled her thighs and was pumping his hand frantically over his throbbing erection.

"Oh, please put it all over me," Victoria murmured, her teeth plunging into her bottom lip. Melbourne groaned and tipped his head back, his hand stilling on his shaft as his cock twitched. Then the creamy white puddles of his seed burst forth, landing messily all over her breasts. It dribbled over her nipples and ran in streams from her chest down to her stomach, and Victoria gasped and moaned again at the sight of it. Melbourne just stayed where he was, perched above her with his hand on himself, seeming to be very much in awe of the way she looked just now.

"You were right," she said finally as he untied her wrists, "that was a little different."

"Mm-hmm." Now it was his turn to be made speechless, and as he cleaned Victoria and himself up with wet rags, he looked almost drunk. By the time he staggered up into the bed in his nightshirt and pulled Victoria against him, the silence had been long and heavy. He tipped his head back against the pillow and finally whispered,

"Thank you, Ma'am."

Victoria smirked to herself, wanting to tell him that he'd made her more aroused, made her feel more pleasure than she'd ever felt. Instead she just kissed his chest through his nightshirt and replied,

"Thank you, Lord M."

**Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you to those who are still with this story after so long. Please be aware that this is the third-to-final chapter of this story (there will be two more). I feel like I could write this AU forever, but I suspect people are ready to move on, and I would love to explore another Vicbourne storyverse. If you have any suggestions for what I should write next, please do let me know, and if you haven't had a chance to comment yet on this story, I'd really love to hear your thoughts. Thank you so much.**


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note: Don't be mad at me, but this is the last chapter of the story. It was time to say goodbye to this storyline! Here we go...**

"When was the last time you felt... ill... Lord M?" Victoria set down her fork and knife from the lamb she'd been eating. Melbourne glanced up from his own seat at the dining room table, and he smiled a little as he said,

"It has been quite some time, Ma'am. I have felt very well for a while now."

"Good." Victoria plopped another bite of lamb into her mouth and chewed, sipping from her wine as she studied Melbourne's face. Whilst he looked older than ever, he also seemed more full of life than she'd ever seen him, and she wondered aloud,

"Will you stay improved permanently?"

"Who can say?" Melbourne set down his cutlery and folded his hands together. He looked thoughtful then as he stared at the flame in the candle before him and said, "In a decade or so, I'll be too old to ride out with you, even if I am healthy. But even so, that is ten years from now. I mean to make the most of those ten years."

"You will see William become a man," Victoria said confidently. Melbourne's lips curled up a little, and he said,

"I wonder if he's being naughty for poor Emma."

"He is not a naughty child," Victoria protested. "Emma tells me - and I see it myself - that he is sweet and good-natured. He gets it from you."

"Quite the other way round, Ma'am," Melbourne argued. They finished their lamb in silence then, and when vanilla cake was brought out, Victoria huffed,

"I've no room for sweets."

"I've plenty. I'll take yours," Melbourne teased. He took a bite of his cake and sipped his dessert wine, and suddenly Victoria wanted him very badly. It took every morsel of self-control she had to wait until the table was cleared, to take a brief bath and to get changed into her nightdress. All the while she was twitchy and anxious, and Miss Skerrett even asked if the queen was quite all right. She was fine; she just wanted her husband.

By the time he came into the bedroom, she was pacing a little, and she seized his face in his hands the moment he shut the door behind him. She backed up up against the door and stood on her tip toes, kissing him as hard as she could with her height disadvantage. He groaned a little and pulled his head back, and he asked her,

"Did you even look on the bed?"

"On the bed?" Victoria frowned and turned her head from the doorway. Her mouth fell open then as she saw the flowers scattered across the blankets. There were a few enormous white and pink peonies tied together with a ribbon. There were red and white roses strewn about. There was a single purple orchid sitting alone. Victoria gasped a bit and shot Melbourne a confused look.

"I had them sent from Brocket Hall," he said. "These are the ones William and I worked on. You see these roses? He helped me prune them. This orchid survived his rough touch. He watered these peonies with a can. You weren't there to see, but you can see now."

"Lord M." Victoria's eyes welled and burned, and she walked over to the bed and began to gather up the flowers. She picked up the peonies and smelled them, breathing in their pungent, beautiful aroma. She dragged her fingers up and over the thorns of the roses, feeling the pliant stems bend a little beneath her touch. And then she picked up the purple orchid, remembering the way Melbourne had sent for some when she'd worn purple to a ball. She'd put them in her hair, and she'd wound up tipsy against a wall with him kissing her and saying her name in the darkness. She stared at the orchid and whispered simply,

"I love you, Lord M."

"And I love you, Ma'am," he replied. He came up behind her and threaded his arms around her stomach, and he murmured beside her ear, "Now... where were we? You were kissing me hard against that door over there. Shall we... oof."

She'd whirled round and yanked his face down to hers again, and this time it was him doing the kissing. It was his hands searching her, pawing at her through her nightgown, and it was heaven. He was heaven, right here at Windsor, and she let herself become lost to him.

* * *

 

"Oh, I can't stand it. Make the carriage move faster, Lord M."

He laughed at her, staring at the gathered people as they passed through London toward Buckingham Palace. Victoria raised her hand and waved, smiling politely. There was a little boy that seemed just a little older than her William, though he was dressed far more raggedly than Victoria's son would ever be. The boy waved frantically from his mother's arms, and Victoria made an effort to lock eyes with him and with the mother. She nodded and smiled, and she realised suddenly that her being a wife and a mother mattered to these people. In so many ways, she was nothing like them. She could never be anything like them. But she stared across the carriage at Melbourne and saw him wave a little, too, and she thought that so long as she had her family, she could at least be a model to them.

"God save the Queen!" A man's voice keener over the crowd, and a little cheer went up. Victoria nodded her thanks and grinned, and then the crowd began to thin out. They were approaching the palace, and as they did, Victoria stared up at the windows where she knew the nursery to be.

"He's in there, and I so desperately want to see him," Victoria murmured. Melbourne smirked.

"It has only been a week, Ma'am."

"It feels as though it has been an eternity," she countered. Melbourne nodded.

"That's because you're a fine mother to him. And a fine wife to me. And a fine queen to the people you just saw."

"Full of praise today, aren't you, Lord M?" She reached for his gloved hand, and he nodded across the landau.

"I shall never run out of praise for you, Ma'am."

They pulled through the gates of the palace then, past the magnificent cadre of guards and through the arch that led back to the courtyard. Melbourne descended from the landau first and held his hand out to Victoria. He'd done this before, unloading her from carriages, but today the sight of his crooked little smile made her heart race a little. She followed him into the palace and quickly pulled off her bonnet, gloves, and cloak. They were handed off to an attendant who would undoubtedly see to it that Skerrett got them. Victoria plodded quickly through the palace then, Melbourne barely keeping up with her youthful strides as she climbed staircases and raced through corridors. Finally she reached the nursery, and through the open door, Emma Portman delicately held her finger to her lips. She curtsied deeply and walked out to the doorway, and she whispered,

"The Prince of Wales is napping, Your Majesty. Shall I wake him?"

"No. Of course not. Mama will be here for him when he wakes." Victoria stepped into the nursery and sank down onto the little divan beside William's miniature bed. He looked peaceful and serene in sleep, his green eyes shut and framed by thick lashes. He really did look just like his father, Victoria thought, and she smiled to herself as she realised she would always have her Lord M in one form or another. Melbourne stood behind the divan and reached down to rub gently at Victoria's shoulders. She let him do it, soaking in the feel of him, staring at her son, and she thought that never in the world would there live a happier woman.

**~ The End ~**

**Author's Note: What a joy this story has been to write. Thank you so very much to everyone who has read it in its entirety and especially to those who have reviewed. I'm still bandying about a few ideas for my next Vicbourne story, which will begin very soon, so please do subscribe to me as an author if you'd like to be alerted when that story is posted. Thank you again so very much. Long live Vicbourne!**


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